


From Human to Monster to Somewhere Inbetween

by FireFox08



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst?, Catholic church is the bad guy, Depression, Gaster Needs a Hug, Gaster can't human, Gaster has a soul of justice, Gaster has a white soul, Gaster is German, Gaster is human, I'm Bad At Summaries, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Bad At Titles, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, Magic and Science, Mt.Ebott is in the Caucaus Mtns., Past Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Religion, Sans is a soldier, There will be violence but probably nothing gory, W. D. Gaster is not related to Skelebros, before the barrier, children die, lots of people die, major insomnia, maybe eventual Grillby/Gaster, mostly people around Gaster, not much Papyrus, this is gonna be a long ride
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2018-10-10 06:15:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 26
Words: 110,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10430943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireFox08/pseuds/FireFox08
Summary: From a human forced to create magic for a supposed holy war. To a monster righting his wrongs. To something that doesn't quite belong anywhere. Somewhere inbetween.A Gaster and Sans central fic taking place before the war to the end of the game. There's magic, tragedy, love, hurt and comfort, action, suspense- and of course, determination.





	1. A Normal Day in the Life

The morning sun shone brightly on the camp slowly rousing to life. Birds flitted through the air, singing a merry tune. Most of the flowers had already shriveled away due to the autumn cold, but a few brave specimen held on, vivid yellow against the dreary green and brown of the camp ground.

Captain Avery marched through the camp, shouting at the men still asleep and gruffly acknowledging those who were already up and doing their morning chores. He only fully stopped in front of one building- an actual stone structure and not a tent. The captain listened for a moment, trying to hear any sounds that might come from inside. Even if there was someone already awake inside, Avery doubted he would actually be able to hear them, but he tried vainly anyway. Anything to give him an excuse not to go inside. He sighed in defeat when all his ears picked up was the chatter of some annoying bird and the clatter of metal as men attended to their duties. Finally he flung the heavy wooden door open.

Inside, the building was dimly lit, most of the light coming from the open doorway. On the far wall, shelves were lined with jars that glowed with a soft white light. The strange liquid inside shifted and churned in constant motion, making the room they were in seem to be moving with them.

The captain waited a tense moment while his eyes adjusted before dragging his gaze away from the jars and to the left where a figure fitfully slept slumped over a desk.  The captain sighed before yelling, “Gaster! Get up, it's morning!”

The doctor shot upright, eyes glowing white with magic. Once he caught sight of the captain he slumped back over, rubbing his eyes irritably. When he removed his hands, his eyes turned a less threatening brightness.. His voice was empty. Not cold or harsh, just lacking of life that should be there. “Captain. I was not expecting you.”

The captain snorted. If this man had forgotten again... “It's Wednesday, Gaster.”

Gaster merely blinked slowly at him. The captain had worked with Gaster long enough to know the action was in confusion. “New magic?”

“Oh.” Was the simple response. There was a slight fluttering sound as the doctor ruffled through some papers before producing the one he was apparently looking for. “The runes for a light cancelling spell.”

The captain snatched the paper up, eyes greedily scanning over it. Finally he huffed, crumpling the paper up and throwing it onto the floor. Gaster watched the action in obvious horror before his searching gaze stared hard at the captain's face. “We're at war, doctor. A spell to snuff out your candle before going to bed won't help us.”

Gaster bristled, eyes narrowing dangerously. “I believe you underestimate my magic, captain.” Without another word, the doctor stormed outside. The captain followed exasperatedly, murderous thoughts circling through his head. The doctor kneeled, drawing a complicated rune into the dirt before him. After several moments of just the dry sound of earth being scraped, the doctor stood up, dusting off his hands.

The captain looked down at the marking, unimpressed. “What are you trying to prove, Gaster? Just accept that you don't know anything about battle and go crawl back into your lab.”

Gaster wordlessly snapped his fingers, eyes shining white. The rune glowed brightly, brighter than the light the doctor's eyes were emitting, brighter than the sunlight. It glowed brighter and brighter until it was blinding to look at. The captain turned away, closing his eyes, but the light still hurt. Then, it suddenly stopped, the light blinking out of existence. The captain opened his eyes, but everything was still dark. He rubbed his eyes in disbelief, trying to see anything, but everything remained black.

“Having difficulty seeing, Captain?” Most people couldn't tell the difference in Gaster’s small range of tones, but Avery could hear the smugness there.

“What the hell did you do to me?” The captain demanded, mindful to keep any panic out of his voice. Whatever the man had done to his sight, it couldn’t be permanent. Right?

“I didn't do anything to you, captain. Listen.” Avery strained his ears, searching for whatever sound Gaster wanted him to hear. He finally caught it, and the sound made him shudder. Panicked shouting and running feet could be just be heard over the terrified squealing of animals and children. “Imagine the possibilities.” The doctor continued from somewhere over on the captain's right. Slowly, the darkness began to retreat, revealing first the rune still shining brightly on the ground, then the doctor, his eyes still white with magic. “These runes could be placed outside outposts with other trap runes. Monsters would be running blindly into traps. They could be placed on the battlefield before battle, sowing panic and uncertainty among the monster ranks. You would tell me this has no battle application?”

“Alright, alright, I was wrong.” The captain conceded gruffly. “Just turn that damn spell off.”

Gaster’s face split into a smile that might look normal on a regular person but just looked eerie on him. “Of course.” He replied smoothly, the light in his eyes dimming once more. Immediately, the darkness retreated, like a blanket had been thrown over the camp and now it had been whisked away.

The captain squinted up at the blue sky overhead, then at the troops in sight stumbling around and murmuring amongst themselves confusedly. Avery sighed, already feeling the headache coming on. “This is going to be hell to explain to my superiors.”

“Then I would suggest you get going.” Gaster commented, slapping the rune sheet onto the captain's chest. The captain glared down at the doctor, but only moved to take it.“If you'll excuse me, I have a lab to crawl back into.”

Avery considered for a moment simply not telling the doctor, but decided, albeit begrudgingly,  that it was for the good of the war. “Gaster.” The doctor stopped in the doorway leading back into his house. “Just got the news. Another batch of monsters arrived. A few of them dusted on the way over, but I think you still got two. And the soldiers I assigned had explicit instructions to keep the dust too.”

Gaster turned his head back to the captain so that half of his face was showing. Half of his face that the captain had thought would be grinning that unsettling grin, but instead was devoid of emotion, unreadable. Avery wondered if the doctor even knew how to convey emotions properly at all. “Thank you, captain. I will head over immediately.”

Avery nodded and walked away from the doctor who likewise set off to inspect his new subjects. He couldn’t help but shudder, feeling oddly like if Gaster was on the other side, not even God could spare the captain from that demon in black doctor's robes.

* * *

 

When Sans woke up, he was first surprised that he woke up, then he couldn’t remember why he was surprised. Before he even opened his eyes, the pain reminded him. Right. Battle waging under a hot midday sun. Suddenly face to face with a mage. The mage had not taken kindly to Sans trying to kill them and had hit him with a powerful spell. Sans couldn't remember what the spell had been, but he did remember a flash of light, pain all over like all of his bones being shattered at once, then darkness.

He had not expected to wake up, yet here he was. Wherever ‘here’ was.

With a soft groan, the skeleton opened his sockets slowly, grimacing at the amount of light shining in through the bars. It seemed he was in a cage propped against the side of a stone building. Sans attempted to sit up, but arcing pain shooting through first his spine and legs, then his entire being, brought that plan to a grinding halt. Instead he just let himself lay there on the cracked wooden floor and stare at the cracked wooden ceiling. Sans traced the markings on top with his eyes. They looked like claw marks smudged with dry blood. Sans shuddered.

Humans didn't take prisoners. If a battle was lost by the monsters, you better pray you managed to fall back with the retreating ranks because otherwise you were would be hunted down and killed. But then, the humans started marching out with new weapons; stronger, lighter weapons with magic runes etched into the metal. Mages stormed the battlefield with never-before-seen magic so powerful it was frightening. Then the soldiers began to take any monsters they found, capturing them, never to be seen again. It was another two months after the strange occurrences began before ghost spies had found out why.

His name was Dr. Gaster. The Doctor of Death. He took the captured monsters and experimented on them, studied their magic and their souls. His experiments always left the monsters dead, barely even dust left behind...

So that’s where Sans was. Hell.

He shuddered, bones rattling and hitting painfully against the wood of the cage. He stopped as he heard a sigh of breath to his right followed by a high-pitched whine. He managed to squirm on the ground, bones protesting at every motion, and find the source of the noise. A madjack laid in a crumpled heap a couple feet from the skeleton, whining in pain while still unconscious. Bones screaming angrily, Sans scrambled over to the monster, cradling him as gently as possible. The monster’s stats were dangerously low, his HP almost in the single digits and slowly declining still. His neck feeling as if it would snap at any moment, Sans finally looked up, seeking help.

Around him were canvas tents taller than the cage, obscuring his view. He hissed, stopping when the being in his arms shifted slightly, whimpering. He hushed the monster gently as they blinked their eyes open. “W-where-urk!” The monster attempted to curl in on himself, but was too weak to manage even that. Sans sucked in a sharp breath as the madjack’s HP dropped a few more points, hovering tentatively at eight.

“Shhh. It’s okay. Everything’s okay. Just go back to sleep.” Sans assured the monster, rubbing a thumb along the nape of his neck. The monster gazed at him with eyes unfocused by pain before his eyelids drifted back down and he relaxed slightly once again. Sans guessed his deliriousness from lost of magic and blood helped the monster sleep. Sans cursed, softly at first, then louder. Cursed the pain coursing through his body, cursed his blue magic that couldn’t use healing magic, cursed the entire damn situation.

Just then, the monster in his arms turned to dust. Sans couldn’t register what had happened at first. Just one moment, he was saying every swear word he knew, and the next his body was covered in a fine white powder. Immediately, there was a sound like glass shattering that Sans knew all too well was the monster’s soul breaking He stopped, not even daring to breathe.

He screamed.

He had seen death before. He had seen battle before, several in fact. He had watched friends and comrades die before him, he had watched the light die from humans’ eyes as he speared them to death with bones. It bothered him of course. Kept him up at night. But for some reason, this seemed so much worse. Even though he didn’t even know this monster.

Maybe it was because he had been right there and was completely helpless to do anything to change it. Trembling, Sans stood up, frantically trying to get the dust off of him.

“What the hell are you two doing? The doc will personally torture us if we don't collect every bit of dust! Don't look at me like that! Move it, move it, move it!” Sans started at the sudden shouting of the guttural human language, spinning toward the source of the sound. Two light skinned humans stumbled out from between two tents, looking like they were just threatened with burning at the stake. They lurched over to the cage, one of them pulling out a key and hurriedly opening the lock on the side. The whole side creaked open slowly. The other human climbed into the cage, roughly grabbing the skeleton before he could pull back. His eyes flared with deep blue magic, casting the monster’s body in the same color. He grunted, then the light grew brighter as the dust on Sans’ clothes and on the floor tentatively rose up and into a small pouch the first human was holding open. When the humans retreated, locking the cage once again, not one speck of white remained. Sans crawled into the corner of the cage, huddling down and trying to comprehend what had just happened. No matter what he did though, his soul couldn't understand. Those men had been so stoic, afraid of punishment, but had no remorse about what had transpired. How could they be so callous? Monsters were alive just like humans, had hopes and dreams and emotions, so how could humans be so cruel to them? Didn't they understand what they were doing? Sans couldn't fathom it. He regretted every time he took a life- human or animal.

He couldn’t bring his eyes off the place where that monster had been. The pain in his bones seemed so very distant now that an almost comforting numbness had wrapped itself around Sans. He shuddered against the chill of autumn as night began to descend. He sat pensively, waiting for more humans to appear. Or more accurately, for _the_ human to appear.

Finally he heard a voice devoid of emotion in the distance. Sans curled around himself tighter, simultaneously straining his hearing to catch every word and wishing he couldn't hear anything. “... finally see him now?” The voice asked, not angry or happy, inquisitive or bored. Just empty. Sans almost couldn't tell the monotone of the voice was asking a question.

“Don't take that tone with me Gaster.” A deep masculine voice responded in return. Sans couldn't possibly see how that was in any way a tone of voice that shouldn't be taken, but he could see approaching torchlight flickering from between two tents.  

“It just didn't seem necessary. You inform me there are monsters here, then subject me to hours of investigation.” The voice almost seemed agitated.

The second voice got a bit softer. “Well, you've heard the rumors going around.”

“I haven't actually.” The voice that Sans was sure had to belong to Doctor Gaster responded something reminiscent of dryly. “I don't get out much, as I'm sure you know.”

“That you've been meeting with monster spies.” Finally, the pair stepped into Sans field of range. The one on Sans’ right was clad in a full suit of heavy iron armor and bore the torch. He was tall and bulky, a scraggy beard covering his face. The one on the left was tall, taller than his giant companion even, with spindly limbs. Despite his pale skin, his black doctor's robes made it seem like he might simply flow right out of the torchlight and meld back into the shadows from which he came. But his most striking characteristic was his eyes. Sans had never seen something like it before from a human. They held a soft, constant white glow, like the kind you would get when using magic that didn’t come from a trait.

“Ah.” The one on the left- the one Sans was convinced was Dr. Gaster- responded tensely. “Well, now those rumors have been put to rest, yes? I am completely loyal to the humans.” It was finally then that the duo stopped in front of the cage.

The soldier eyed the doctor, less distrusting and more searching before turning his gaze to Sans. He hesitated, shuffling from foot to foot. “He can't understand us, right?” He hissed, glancing at Doctor Gaster.

“It's possible.” The doctor responded vaguely, eyes drinking in the sight of the monster before them. At the soldier's glare, Gaster continued, “The monster may have picked up the human language from before the war or may have learned a difficult spell that allows the user to understand others, even when speaking another language.” The doctor cocked his head at Sans **,** glowing white eyes narrowing slightly. “I doubt it though. This monster isn't very old.”

The armored man let out a small breath, turning his attention back to Sans. “Well, he’s yours. My men told me that the other one dusted earlier, but they collected every bit.” The man paused, obviously trying to gauge Gaster’s reaction, or lack thereof. Eventually, he cleared his throat, moving to leave. “I'll leave you to it then.”

Gaster nodded slightly. “Thank you, captain. I will begin work immediately. See that I'm not disturbed.” Gaster didn't turn to the captain to see his reaction, but Sans could fully see the outright annoyance on the his face. The captain didn't respond, just turned and stomped away.

Doctor Gaster waited a tense moment, simply staring at the monster before him with those creepy white eyes. Sans watched in horror as the human’s eyes grew brighter, shining brighter than the torch the soldier had left with the doctor. “Come.” Dr. Gaster ordered simply in the monster language, opening the cage with a turn of a key. Sans glared at the human, stubbornly remaining where he was. The doctor rolled his eyes impatiently, crossing his arms. “I haven’t all night, monster. You either follow obediently, or I make you.”

Sans was tempted to spit at the doctor, but being skeleton, that would have been a bit difficult. “My name is Sans.” He hissed, climbing to his feet slowly. That was a bad idea. The world spun around him, dark and too blurry to make out anything. He didn’t even feel himself falling, just the icy grip of blue magic on his soul. He blinked at the wooden board inches from his face, trying to comprehend what had just happened. Had Dr. Gaster just used blue magic to stop him from falling?

Sans looked up, trying to understand what was going on. Dr. Gaster’s expression hadn’t changed in the slightest, but his eyes had taken on a blue hue that matched the magic suspending Sans in the air. He snapped his fingers, summoning two spectral hands beside him. He reached inside his robes, pulling out a piece of parchment and handed it to the hands. They began to write furiously, about what Sans had no idea. Dr. Gaster stepped back, slowly bringing Sans out of his cage and standing on the ground.

The blue retreated from the doctor’s eyes, replaced by the white again. “Monster is indignant. Might prove difficult to work with. Already weak and wounded, further analysis will determine how much so. As it stands now, however, I will have to call in a nurse to tend to him and possibly give him rest before conducting any tests.” Dr. Gaster muttered, switching back to human tongue. He eyed Sans as the skeleton snorted at the doctor’s comment about him being difficult to work with. Did he expect Sans to eagerly comply with everything the man said? “Evidence indicates the skeleton either knows human language, or knows magic to translate it. Further investigation required.”

“Yeah, I know human language.” Sans spat past the heat in his face when he realized his mistake. “And I have quite a few words I know that I’d like to share with you, you-”

“Subject is insistent on being uncooperative.” Dr.Gaster interrupted dryly. “Will take drastic measures if its actions continue.” He looked at Sans rather blankly, but a slight shift in the way his eyes glowed made it more meaningful.

 _His intent._ Sans thought suddenly. _His eyes glow because of his magic, so that glow will change depending on his mood or his intentions._ Dr.Gaster was trying to convey to Sans that if he stepped out of line again, he would be punished. He couldn't get his face to do it right, but his magic sensed the change and expressed it as best it could. But really, what could some scientist really do that would hurt more than what San was already going through?

“An interesting pair of eyes you got there.” Sans said, closing his right. “Would you like to see mine?”

Dr.Gaster cocked his head, the white of his eyes dimming slightly. Did that mean he was confused? Sans wasn't certain, but either way, before the doctor could do anything else, he snapped his socket open to reveal one glowing blue eye.

The gift of being born with a soul of Integrity- the Eye of Integrity. With it, a monster or human could see into another's soul, even if that person or monster didn't want you too. The more you wanted to know, the better you had to be with your skill, and Sans prided himself as one of the best Integrity souls he knew. He stared hard and deep into the doctor’s soul. He was first met with some flitting surface thoughts, his soul type, and emotions. His emotions felt dampened though, like they were being consciously held back. Besides that, his soul was white like a monster’s. Sans didn't know what to make of that. Further inside, Sans found his HP next, actually really low for a human, or even a monster, at 67.

Sans found what he was looking for past that, in the layer of the soul holding memories. It appeared before him immediately, his magic already calling it forth. Sans needed to know what magic the human had at his disposal if he ever wanted to hope to escape.

What he found was an archive so vast, Sans would need at least a day just to learn all the offensive magic the man knew; that wasn't mentioning the hundreds more spells that didn't have direct effect on a battlefield. Sans distantly felt himself gasp, then groan in despair. He wouldn't have time now to sort through it. Barely a second had actually passed, but Gaster would recover from the initial surprise soon enough. Sans should get out of the man’s soul before he was forced out. And yet...

Sans went just a bit further into the core of the human’s soul. Here was the information most creatures kept secret, even when showing their soul to another. LOVE and EXP. Sans had to know how bad it was. He saw his LV first. It was unsurprisingly high at 29. Most commanders in the monster army didn't even reach 20. Just past that lay his EXP. Far away, Sans felt himself frown. This didn't make sense. He had never doubted the intel his Eye had given him before, but now he was certain this couldn't be righ-

Sans barely had time to see the change. He registered a yellow light in the center of the soul glow, morphing into a bright blue. Then he was slammed into the ground, reality crashing back painfully. Literally. His already sore bones screamed in agony, and a cry escaped from the skeleton. He gasped, the action made excruciating by the pain already in his jaw and all over his body. Tears forming traitorously at the corners of his sockets, Sans glanced up.

Above him, the Doctor of Death towered over his cowering form. His eyes, blue now because of the magic he was using, had grown so dim that it looked like they were sucking in light as opposed to letting it off. The human glared down at the monster, he face cast in ominous, dark shadows. Rather than making it less terrifying, the torch actually made it worse, causing those shadows to dance cruelly across the man’s face and his eyes to glint malevolently.

“Never.” He hissed. Sans whimpered softly; it would have been better if the human was shouting. Anything other than that low, dangerous tone. “Do. That. Again. Do you understand?”

Sans could barely breathe. The pervasive pain made his vision swim and his stomach tie in knots. Did that even apply to a skeleton who didn't have internal organs? He managed to move his head up and down in a weak nod. Dr.Gaster regarded the skeleton coldly for another moment before gripping him in chilling blue magic again. The human all but threw Sans back into his little wooden cage where another had already perished.

“I was going to bring you inside to begin conducting my research,” Dr.Gaster said, tone losing some of its edge, “but perhaps a night exposed to the elements will do you some good. Besides, this experience already grants me some groundwork to lay.” One of the man’s phantom hands gave him back the parchment. Dr.Gaster looked it over once, and, seemingly satisfied, nodded and tucked the sheet back into his robes. “Goodnight, _skeleton.”_ The doctor said, purposefully neglecting to use Sans’ name. His eyes flashed warningly, then he was off, turning away in a flutter of black cloth and ill intent.

Sans watched him go before crawling over to the corner of the cage and huddling up again. He squeezed his eyes shut, breathing deeply to try to keep the pain at bay. An icy breeze had begun to blow, ruffling the canvas of the tents around him and chilling his bones to their marrow. After several moments of blankly staring at the floor of his prison, Sans sighed and summoned his soul. The white, upside-down heart floated deceptively peacefully in his cupped hands. Even before checking his HP, he knew it couldn't be too bad or there would be cracks in his soul. 28 health points. Sans figured that wasn't too bad, considering how much all this hurt.

He shivered more violently as a gust of cold air bombarded him. The wood of the cage creaked and the sky rumbled overhead.

Sans went over what had happened in his head. Gaster had so much magic. That flash of yellow before Gaster had used his magic- was that his soul type? Sans knew monsters had more magic than they did traits- that's why their souls glowed white. But if you looked in the core of a monster's soul, you would find their soul type. Dr.Gaster’s soul was white like a monster's. Did that mean he had so much magic, it overpowered his trait and made his soul the natural color of magic? Or that his soul trait was just very weak? And all the spells he knew...

A sob escaped the skeleton’s mouth, a sound drowned out by the wind. It was pointless. Sans didn't stand a chance at escaping. Even if he got enough of his strength back to use magic other than his innate ability, he didn't stand a chance against Dr.Gaster. He wasn't called the Doctor of Death for nothing.

It felt like a tug in his chest. Completely painless, just sort of a discomfort. Sans frowned checking his HP again.

His maximum points had dropped from 180 to 175.

Sans closed his sockets, letting his soul sink back into his chest. He was losing hope, then. Made sense considering the circumstances.

 _But his Execution Points_. A voice in Sans head seemed to whisper. Sans cracked his sockets open. That was right. Sans had never seen something like it. Dr.Gaster’s ability to kill was high, that Sans was certain.

His Execution Points were only twenty. Gaster must have only killed one creature to have points like that.

Sans didn't know what was going on, but he decided to trust his Eye. He didn't have many other options anyways. Sans didn't know what had happened to the other monsters, but Gaster hadn't killed them, nor played a key role in their deaths. If they were dead at all. That thought was ludicrous, though. Humans would never let them live. But that didn't mean Gaster had been willing to let them die.

Sans closed his sockets tiredly. Whatever was going on, he would find out soon enough. He just had to hold onto the hope that Gaster wouldn't let him die.

Another tugging sensation told him that hope was already fleeting.


	2. So This Is What Humans Are Like

Sans didn’t remember falling asleep, but a part of him wished he had simply never woken up. Waking up was pain in his bones and a pounding in his head. Waking up was a return to that horribly empty feeling in his soul where magic and hope should be. Waking up was the awful numbness in his mind that made his thoughts feel like they were going through molasses.

Sans did not want to wake up. He wanted to stay in that blissful darkness, away from the pain and the emptiness. He wanted to just stay asleep. But the rest of the camp had other plans.

The rousing of life was slow at first. Some early rising birds began to sing here and there as the sun rose. There was the soft clang of metal moving as the night watch came back from their posts and sent the next shift out. Around the time the sun was halfway over the horizon, the camp really started to wake up. Commanders still training units shouted for them to get up, and already disciplined soldiers were getting dressed and outside stretching their legs. Sans peeled his sockets open as something shaked his cage.

Three boys in rough cotton shirts grinned at him maliciously from behind the bars. The one in the middle ran a hand through his top of mousy brown hair, throwing his head back dramatically. Sans instinctively activated his eye.

The one in the middle had a soul of orange Bravery. Good in battle, but could make him more foolhardy in regular everyday life. The one on the left had a soul of Integrity like Sans, but had so little magic in his soul it was laughable. He wouldn’t even be able to access his ability, but then again, most humans couldn’t. The one on the right had a vibrant red soul. The soul of Determination. Sans eyed that one warily. He had found that monsters couldn’t have Determination souls for some reason. Most humans though had souls of that red- that’s part of what made them so dangerous in battle. That combined with their ability to hate like no monster could made for a killer combo on the field. If a human wanted to kill you, you’d be hard pressed to kill them before they got their wish. Their Determination also refused to let monsters take their souls. Humans were such a pain.

Integrity narrowed his eyes at the skeleton. “Guys look at that; his eye is glowing weird! What do you think he’s doing?”

“I bet he’s trying to curse us.” Determination muttered wide-eyed. Integrity rolled his eyes and started dismissing the statement, but Determination shook his head vehemently. “No, Father Michael was preaching about this exact thing. He’s a _monster_ using his magic to curse us.” The way the human said the word, it was not simply a label or title. It was an insult, a disgrace, to be a monster. You weren’t a monster- you were an abomination. Determination’s eyes grew even wider, becoming the size of dinner plates. “We’re going to go to hell!”

The three boys blanched, staring down at the skeleton. Finally, Bravery drew himself up and puffed out his chest. “Not on my watch.” He hissed, shaking the cage again. The wooden bars behind Sans clacked on his head and back, sending more shoots of pain through his body. Sans groaned, closing his eyes against the pain and drawing into a tighter huddle. He heard Bravery laugh nervously, then more confidently when he realized he had subdued the monster _._ “Yeah, you like that _monster?_ ” The boy shook the cage harder until Sans was forced to crawl to the center to escape the worst of it.

“Hey, knock it off.” Integrity, much to Sans’ surprise, stepped forward and jerked Bravery back by the shoulder. “The doctor might string us up if he catches us messing with his test subject.”

Bravery scowled at his companion. “Aw, come on, you don’t believe that do you? It’s just a _monster_ \- we can capture more. Besides, this one was trying to kill us, Determination was right. Just look at those eyes.” Bravery gestured to Sans’ glowing sockets. “And its body for God’s sake! It’s a skeleton! That’s just unholy.” Bravery grinned at Sans again, taking a confident step forward. “It’s like the priests say. _Monsters_ can take the souls of humans, they walk around in bodies like that, and use that black magic, they must be exterminated.” Well, wasn’t this just lovely. Sans tried to scoot away from the human, but his cage was small and he was too slow either way. The human grabbed the rough cotton of his undershirt and yanked the skeleton so their faces were inches apart. His grin grew and his eyes filled with manic glee as he realized he had complete dominance over the creature before him. Sans was just a _monster_ . No one would object to the death of a _monster_.

Bravery raised a fist, preparing to strike him. Desperately, Sans looked to the other humans for help. Integrity shuffled from foot to foot nervously, but he just seemed concerned about Dr.Gaster coming back and finding them here. Determination was looking on with a grave sense of approval, his eyes just as merciless as his companions’.

Of course. He was nothing to these humans. Just an abomination that needed disposing.

Sans squeezed his sockets shut and braced for impact, praying he would survive this blow with how low his HP was. If he was being completely honest with himself, he knew that Battle probably wouldn’t even engage with how low his health was. He’d just turn to dust.

He was about to die. Despite the encroaching hopelessness and despair he had felt the night before, Sans felt a pang of terror. He didn’t want to die.

“What is the meaning of this?” A monotone voice inquired. Even after hearing it for only one conversation, Sans could place that voice anywhere.

He dared to crack an eye open. He had to fight back a gasp at the fist a hair's breath from his skull. The fist surrounded by a veil of purple light. Bravery was yanked over to the looming form of Dr.Gaster, suspended almost a foot off the ground with blue magic and held in place by purple magic. Standing against the light, Sans almost couldn’t tell where Dr.Gaster’s robes ended and his long shadow began. Once again his gaze was drawn to the human’s eyes. They swirled with blue and purple light, responding to his magic. And though his voice hadn’t portrayed a hint of it, they were ablaze in his fury.

“G-Gaster-” Bravery stammered, eyes darting all around, but never on the human before him. The human’s lackeys tried to turn and run, but with a glance Gaster froze them in place with more purple magic. Gaster gazed at each one appraisingly before turning to Sans.

He switched to the monster language, much to Sans’ confusion. The doctor knew he knew human tongue. “Do any of these have a soul of Integrity?” Sans nodded, pointing to the boy. The boy paled at the action, obviously trying to escape the purple magic but it had him trapped firmly in place. Dr.Gaster switched to human. “Why were you about to damage my subject?”

The boy was white as a sheet, and Sans thought he might piss himself. “I-I didn’t, I mean- it was his idea!” The boy’s arm was released from the magic for a moment so he could point to Bravery. “He said there was a new monster in camp and we should go see what it looked like! We’ve never been on the battlefield before, we haven’t seen any monsters before! I was just curious is all, but he got here and wanted to kill it!”

“Is that so?” Dr.Gaster responded smoothly, turning back to Bravery. “And why, pray tell, did you want to kill my subject?”

Bravery’s eyes widened in terror. “It’s his fault!” Bravery was partially released to point at Determination. “He said it was trying to kill us and we would be sent to hell! I just wanted to protect us, is all!”

Dr.Gaster sighed crossly, pinching the bridge of his nose. He threw daggers in his glance toward Determination. The boy whimpered. Dr.Gaster went back to Integrity. “Who’s your commanding officer?”

“Captain Avery.” The boy responded, cringing back slightly.

Dr.Gaster just nodded, sighing again. “Do you boys know what I do to people who are insistent on killing my subjects of study?” He looked at each of the soldiers-to-be. “They replace what they have destroyed.”

It took a moment for it to sink in, but soon enough each of the boys were begging to be spared. Gaster let them plead for a time before freezing their faces with purple magic. They all stared at him, unable to blink and eyes beginning to water.

“Now, you didn’t hurt my subject. So this time, I’ll let it be.” Dr.Gaster pulled them in with blue magic so they were all dwarfed in his shadow. “But let me be clear.” He continued, his voice dangerously soft and fiery eyes holding the boys in place even after he dropped the purple magic. “If this ever happens again, you three will be the next ones in that cage. If I find anyone else has harmed my subject, you three will be the next ones in that cage. Do you understand?” The boys nodded furiously. “Good. Now, run along before you miss breakfast.”

The boys didn’t need to be told twice. They high-tailed away, glancing back several times. Dr.Gaster watched them go with an unreadable expression, as always, before looking Sans up and down once. He opened his mouth to say something, but someone beat him to it.

“Must you be so cruel, Gaster?” A feminine voice crooned from around the corner. Dr.Gaster turned just as a red-headed woman with freckles approached. Her green robes identified her as a human healer.

“I let them go, didn’t I?” The doctor deadpanned in response, crossing his arms. “What do you want, Ms.Lytle?”

“You called for a healer, didn’t you?” She smirked, slinking over to stand next to the doctor, lithe as a cat. Gaster’s only response was a grunt. She rolled her eyes good-naturedly before turning to Sans. Sans felt a slight tug on his soul, the healer trying to summon it. Sans wouldn’t let it leave the protection of his ribcage, however slight that was. Ms.Lytle tsked, saying, “Aye, Gaster, you sure know how to pick them. He won’t let me see his soul.”

“Firstly, I didn’t pick him, the soldiers did.” Gaster said matter-of-factly. “Secondly,” He eyed Sans, “I thought we went over this.” Sans met the doctor’s gaze evenly, but did not summon his soul. The doctor sighed tiredly. “Very well, then. We’ll do this the hard way.” He waved a hand, about to cast a spell when Ms.Lytle stopped him.

“Let me try. The lad might just be confused.” She said softly. She turned back to the skeleton, a gentle smile on her lips. “Mr.Monster,” She said in monster, “I would like to inspect the damage done to your soul and body so that I may properly heal you. Is that alright?”

As if he had a choice. Sans wanted to stubbornly turn away, but the woman’s eyes were just so damn caring, filled to the brim with a kindness Sans had never seen before in a human. He closed his sockets in defeat and gave a terse nod. This time when there was a tug on his soul, he grumbled, letting the white heart float out. The woman smiled, stepping closer. “Let’s see... ah! Here we are! HP.” She blinked as the numbers appeared before her. “Dr.Gaster?” Something about the worry that crept into the healer’s voice made the doctor take pause in reading some notes he had taken out from the folds of his robes.

He still didn’t look up though. “What is it?”

“Uh, was the monster’s HP so low when he got here?” Ms.Lytle asked, glancing worriedly over her shoulder.

“He just came from battle and a night in the cold.” Dr.Gaster replied irritably, turning the page. “His HP will be concerningly low.”

“His max HP, Gaster.” Ms.Lytle replied with a less amused eye roll. “He’s only got eighty points!”

“I have sixty.” Gaster said tiredly, closing the bound parcel of parchment. “Your point being?”

“Well, you’re a bloody madman.” Ms.Lytle muttered loud enough for Dr.Gaster to hear. She stopped. “Wait, sixty? It was seventy the last we spoke.” The healer turned to Gaster, concerned.

He shrugged. “Things change.”

Ms.Lytle stared at him for a moment, before shaking her head. “Anyways,” she said, switching back to the language Sans knew, “Eighty is very low for a monster.” Gaster raised an eyebrow at her, prompting her to continue. “It’s concerning, is what I’m saying.”

Gaster frowned ever so slightly. “Well, it’s not a problem. Just heal him so I may begin my research.”

Lytle scowled. “Would it kill you to be at least a little nice to them?”

“Yes.” Gaster said, looking away. “It would.” Lytle cocked her head curiously, but Dr.Gaster was already moving again. “Fetch me when he is healed.”

“Gaster, er-” The doctor left while the healer was mid-sentence, rounding the corner of the stone building. A moment later, Sans heard a door slam. “Bloody hell. Aye, that man.” She muttered something to softly for Sans to hear, eyes beginning to glow green. Immediately, Sans’ soul felt a refreshing coolness settle over his soul. The healer began to hum some odd human song as she worked, restoring his HP and reducing the pain in his body. Despite himself, Sans gave a small sigh of relief as the pain present in his bones since he arrived suddenly vanished. “And there we go.” The human said in monster, suddenly sounding exhausted. The light in her eyes flickered out of existence, leaving her eyes seeming very vacant. “Good as new, yes?”

Sans nodded, examining his soul before letting it sink back into his chest. “Thank you.” He said gratefully, voice hoarse from lack of use.

She smiled, reaching through the bars to give the skeleton a pat on the shoulder. “Hang in there. Life here, it’s not so bad. And in the end, hey, at least you made a difference.”

Sans scowled at the human. “For the wrong side.” He growled.

She shrugged, pulling her hand back. “Life is like that. Well, anyways, I’m sure I’ll be patching you up again soon enough.” She gave a parting smile before turning around the corner. There was a pounding on a door, some words exchanged, then Gaster was storming into view, a dark expression on his face.

“Get a scolding from mom?” Sans teased. _Idiot, what are you doing?_

Dr.Gaster threw daggers at the skeleton, his eyes flaring with barely suppressed magic. “Sei ruhig.” The doctor spat, much to Sans’ confusion. Dr.Gaster’s face grew red when he realized his mistake. “Be quiet.” He said in a language to the skeleton actually knew. “Out.”

This time, Sans obediently scrambled out of the cage. He couldn’t help but smile when he could finally stand up and stretch his legs. Dr.Gaster pushed him toward the corner Sans kept seeing people disappearing around. He stumbled after the doctor, following him through a wooden doorway and into the stone building his cage had been propped against.

It took a moment for Sans’ sight to adjust after the brightness of the morning, though not nearly as long as it would take a human. The dark room was big, but the room was the entirety of the building so Sans supposed that only made sense. Along the left wall was a large desk with papers covering every inch of available space. The lower right corner of the room was a cell with wooden bars, bigger than the cage Sans had just come from at least. It had a bedroll and a small table with a stool. But the real spectacle was the wall opposite Sans. He knew, with just a glance, what lined that wall. Cubbies with jars filled with the soul matter of monsters. Sans stopped cold, his soul freezing in his chest. This was what happened to those the Doctor of Death experimented on. This was what would remain of Sans.

“Move.” Dr.Gaster ordered coldly. Sans started, darting forward to enter the cage the human motioned to. The doctor slammed the door shut, muttering something. Runes surrounding the cage flashed white in response, before sustaining a dim glow. Dr.Gaster began making jerking motions and symbols with his hands, irritably moving over to the wall of churning soul matter and scanning the various jars. He made a sudden huge motion before his hands stilled, the doctor silently fuming. He moved over to the desk, ruffling through the papers before finding the one he was looking for. He scanned its contents, scowling at whatever was on the page. “Your HP.” He snapped suddenly, glancing up. “What was its previous maximum and when did you start losing health points?”

Considering the doctor’s mood, Sans bit his metaphorical tongue and decided to simply answer the question. “Uh, my max HP used to be one-eighty. My max HP points started getting lower just after you left.”

“Yes, but _why_? Why did your HP start to decrease?” The doctor quickly reread the page before tossing it away from him. “Gott verdammt!” The doctor presumably cursed, collapsing into the chair at his desk. He held his head in his hands, groaning.

Sans cautiously moved over to his stool and sat down as quietly as he could manage, watching the doctor carefully. Why was the man so distraught? Sans stopped himself. Did he really care? Well, he certainly didn’t have much better to do than wonder about his soon-to-be-killer. So, the human didn’t know why his HP had started to decrease? That was why he was so upset? Every monster knew that your hope correlated directly to your health points. The less hope, the less health, the more hope, the more health. But the doctor, apparently, didn’t know that. Should Sans... tell him that? That would be helping the enemy though.

“Do you know?” Dr.Gaster turned to the monster. Sans hesitated, looking down at his hands. The doctor sighed, picking up his sheet and bringing it over to him with blue magic. “I can’t understand it. All the monsters I bring in start losing their max HP, yet everything I subject them to is different. I give them different food, give them different tests, try different things on them. Still, their HP decreases until they lose all but one. At that point, a mere cut could end their life. They can’t even sustain the stress of magic on their soul; they’ll become exhausted and die without immediate medical attention and rest.” The unspoken words hung in the air, _And that will happen to me soon_.

Sans wanted to be silent, but that would get him definitely punished. He almost wanted to lie, but that would go against the nature of his Integrity soul. “Hope.” Sans finally whispered, tightening his hands into fists.

Gaster stopped, looking at the skeleton. The slight way his brows were drawn, the way his eyes dimmed again, he was definitely confused. “What?”

“Hope.” Sans repeated. “They lost hope which lowered their health.”

Gaster was silent as he turned back to the sheet. He sighed, summoning his spectral hands and letting them take the parchment and write on it. He dragged a hand over his face before getting up and leaving. Sans was left to sit in his cage.

 _Why are you losing hope?_ Sans thought, looking around his cage. There was nothing useful in here, but with the seat and the bed it would at least be a little comfortable. _Is there a real reason, or is it just because you’re human?_ Humans were weird. There were all sorts of stories and medical issues Sans had heard about them. Nothing he had to really worry about as a skeleton monster. _Is it... because there is no justice in what you’re doing and you have a soul of justice?_ Now the skeleton was just being a romantic. He didn’t even know for sure if the man’s soul had a base of justice.

The doctor returned eventually with a tray of food in hand. The smell of it sent Sans’ metaphorical stomach gnawing at his insides. The skeleton shuffled up and over to his bedroll, curling into a ball and trying to ignore the smell.

There was a creak and a scuff, then, “Well?”

Sans opened his sockets, looking over. The doctor had pushed the tray through a slot in the bottom of the bars. Sans watched the doctor tensely, but the man went over and sat back at his desk, returning to his notes and jars. Sans scrambled over to the tray, bringing it to his table and plopping down on his seat. The breakfast was simple really, just some eggs, bread, and a clay cup of milk. To Sans, though, it was positively heaven. Part of the void in the monster’s soul was finally filled. Sans grinned. Now was a good a time as any. He stood up, stool toppling over, though the doctor didn’t notice. His flared his eye to life. Or he tried at least. The moment he tried to use his magic, pain exploded in his head and behind his socket. He was thrown backward into the wall with an “oof” and landed hard on the floor.

“I would suggest not trying to use your magic.” Gaster commented absently. “The runes around your prison will nullify it and backfire.”

 _Good to know. Glad you told me before I tried anything stupid._ Of course that’s what the runes were for. Why had Sans even tried? Idiot.

“Alright, monster.” Dr.Gaster stood up a moment later, before looking the skeleton up and down. He frowned slightly, cocking his head. “Are you alright?”

“Just peachy.” Sans gritted out, massaging his temples.

“Ah, well, perfect then.” Gaster opened the cell door, eyes flaring a bright white. Sans felt like a fist had just clenched around his soul, and immediately knew his magic wouldn’t work if he tried to use it. Damn human with all his magic.  “Follow me.”

“Where?” Sans asked cautiously, uncertain if the question would upset the human.

“Magic practice range.” Gaster answered, opening the door of the building. “I will also forewarn you now. If you try to use your magic, it will not work. Once we get to the range and you can use your magic, you will follow instructions, or suffer the consequences.”

“Why are we going there?” Sans asked.

“I need to know your magical abilities.” The human responded gruffly. “We have to do it today since it’s going to rain tomorrow. It wouldn’t bother me, but the range is closed on rainy days, so we haven’t a choice. Now let’s get going, I haven’t time to waste.”


	3. Well That Was Exhausting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has so far given me some positive feedback! You guys are the best! I hope I can continue to write interesting concepts and a great story for you to read. I just finished the fourth chapter, so I'll post that one too as a treat before the week really starts. I can't say how much time I'll really have to write during that time, so you might have to wait until the weekend for the next chapter, but probably not.

Sans stepped outside and followed the doctor toward the range. The human camp was surprisingly similar to the monster one. Trainees training, soldiers practicing, families tending to chores and the like. The buildings around Gaster’s lab were all stone or wood, probably the structures from the original town, but the further the two walked out, the more tents took up space until that’s all there was. Sans watched the humans they passed warily, keeping track of where Dr.Gaster turned and in which direction as he led the skeleton. Most of the humans didn’t even notice him trailing behind the tall form of Dr.Gaster, but those that did sneered at him or spat on him. Sans grimaced, wiping a glob of saliva off his cheekbone. He did not like humans.

As they walked, Sans thoughts wandered to this morning. Lytle had been kind to him. Especially for a human. Sans couldn’t remember the last time he had seen a human with a soul of Kindness, or if he had ever seen one period. But maybe with her around things wouldn’t be completely awful.

And then there was Dr.Gaster. Sans... didn’t know where to begin with the enigma of a man. His soul was _white_ , but it was definitely a human soul. Sans wasn’t sure, but he was almost positive his base color was the yellow of Justice. The human was steadily losing hope for some reason, though Sans couldn’t possibly fathom _why._ He was called the Doctor of Death, but his Execution Points were incredibly low. At the same time, his Level of Violence was exceptionally high. He made magic for the human army, but judging by the way everyone spoke to him, he had done little in the way of earning anyone’s respect. Sans had only heard one person here even call him ‘doctor’. And that’s when she was worried about a monster.

“Hold it, Gaster.” Judging by the expanse of field that lay past these two guards, Sans guessed the doctor was trying to bring him outside. One of the guards courageously stepped out in front of the doctor. He had to crane his neck to look the taller human in the eye. “Where are you going with that monster?”

Dr.Gaster was silent for a moment. His voice was slightly annoyed. “What are you suggesting, sir?”

The guard didn’t back down. “I’ve heard about you.” The guard spat, looking the doctor up and down. If he had talked to a doctor or scientist like that, Sans would have been doing extra chores for months. Here though, or at least with Gaster, punishments didn’t seem to apply. “You’re a goddamn monster sympathizer, aren’t you?”

Sans thought the doctor might get mad at the question, but the man just seemed bored. “I don’t have time for this.” He responded tiredly. “I am in the process of making magic of mass destruction with the sole purpose in mind of killing monsters. If that makes me a sympathizer, then burn me to ashes now and get it over with.”

The guard didn’t budge. “I’m going to let you pass, Gaster. But I’ll be watching.” The human slowly stomped away. Even after they passed, Sans could feel the man glowering at them. Sans shuddered, feeling the pure hatred in the human’s gaze. How could they do it? How could humans be so full of hate? A monster would probably die if they were ever filled with hate like a human.

“What was that all about?” Sans asked cautiously. They still hadn’t arrived at their destination, but if the sandlot where Sans could see humans practicing projectile magic was any indicator, they were close.

The doctor was quiet so long Sans thought he was just ignoring him. “There are people here who think I side with monsters more than humans.” Gaster said quietly. “There are people here who view my heavy use of magic as the work of the devil. For both reasons, they believe I should be burned at the stake.”

Sans watched the human, but Gaster’s expression didn’t change in the slightest. Even if the man was his enemy, Sans couldn’t really wish that sort of death on anyone. “Why would they think you side more with monsters? You’re not called the Doctor of Death for nothing, right?”

“No more questions, we’re here.” Gaster said with finality, stopping at the edge of the lot.

Sans took a quick survey of the area. It was just a rectangular sandlot with dozens of soldiers practicing their magic against practice dummies. Gaster led him over to the very edge, away from everyone else. There was some apprehensive murmuring from the men that noticed the duo, but a few moments later and they were focused on their magic again. Of course. The men would be used to seeing Gaster with a monster.

“Alright.” Gaster said, turning. The glow in his eyes dimmed slightly, and Sans felt the weight suffocating his soul recede. He gasped shakily, feeling like he could finally breathe again for the first time in the walk over here. “Ms.Lytle told me your soul has a base of blue.” Gaster held Sans gaze intensely, waiting apprehensively for his response.

“Uh, yeahhhh, it’s an Integrity soul.” Sans said slowly. Gaster’s face split into an eerie sort of smile that probably meant bad news for the skeleton. “How else would I have the Eye of Integrity?”

“Eye of Integrity..?” Gaster muttered softly, cocking his head questioningly. Sans stood in silent confusion as the human turned away, making several odd hand motions to himself. Finally, he shook his head, coming back down to earth. “Well, there is time for that later, I suppose. Now, your soul will make blue magic much more potent. Tell me, what does your soul experience when you use blue magic?”

“You’ve used blue magic,” Sans snapped, tired of the way the human looked at him. Like he was a thing to be examined, a bug he was observing that he might smash whenever he got bored. “Why don’t you answer your own question?”

Gaster arched an eyebrow at him. His eyes flicked to the side so quickly it was almost imperceptible to the skeleton, lips pressing into a line. “You will show me respect, monster.” Gaster hissed, straightening to his full height. He towered over the skeleton, more than twice the monster’s height. Sans shrank back, the icy wind and fire in his bones from the night before still painfully forefront in his mind.

“The _monster_ giving you problems, Doc?” Sans glanced over to where a couple soldiers had paused in their training to watch the exchange. These ones were several years older than his previous tormentors, and judging by the slight haunted shadow in their eyes, they had actually seen battle before. “We could always lend a hand.”

Gaster huffed slightly, mulling over the human’s suggestion. Sans’ soul froze in cold dread. The doctor wouldn’t let the soldiers hurt him... right? He had stopped the boys earlier. He would stop these ones too, right?

“No,” Gaster said thoughtfully several long moments later, “I have much to do today before it rains tomorrow. If the monster were left incapacitated, I would be left with nothing to do.”

“We wouldn’t knock ‘em out, Doc, just rough him up some.” The soldier persisted.

Gaster looked unimpressed. “No. I need the subject functioning at optimal levels. Maybe another time, if the subject continues refusing to follow orders.”  He looked at Sans meaningfully. Sans offered a nervous smile.

“If you say so. We’ll be over here if you need us.” The soldiers moved away, resuming their sparring. Sans sneaked a glance at Gaster as the human ran a hand over his face tiredly, eyes dimming significantly.

The doctor caught Sans watching him. He glowered at the monster silently for a moment, though the action seemed halfhearted. “Now, let’s try this again. What do you feel on your soul when you use blue magic?”

“Nothing different from any different type of magic.” Sans said with a sigh.

Gaster had summoned another pair of phantom hands while he talked to record what was being said. Gaster nodded, folding his arms and his eyes becoming distant as he retreated into his own thoughts. “What do you think when you use your magic?”

Sans frowned, as much as his skull would let him anyway. “I’m sorry?”

“What goes through your mind when you use blue magic? What do you do to use blue magic?” Gaster elaborated, eyes focusing on Sans slightly.

Sans was silent for a moment as he thought about it. What _did_ he do to use his magic? He had never really thought about it. It was almost like flexing a limb; he thought about doing it and it did it. It was always that simple, and no one he knew had ever questioned it. But Sans supposed that was what separated the scientist from the soldier.

“I just- do it.” Sans answered haltingly. At Gaster’s look, Sans hurriedly explained. “It’s like moving. You don’t really think about it, you just want it done and your body does it.”

Gaster nodded as if he knew that would be the skeleton’s answer all along. “That does seem to be the recurring answer. Now, I want you to use your blue magic to lift up some of the sand. I want you to think about exactly what you are feeling and thinking as you do it.”

Sans narrowed his eyes, lifting a small batch of sand with blue magic. He held it there before letting it fall back down with sigh. “I didn’t feel out of the ordinary.”

“Hmm,” Gaster hummed, making more small motions to himself with his hands, “Again.”

Sans rolled his eyelights, picking up the sand again and letting fall down.

Gaster made a tiny noise of annoyance. “You’re not trying hard enough.”

“Well, what should I be doing? I don’t even know what I’m looking for.” Sans snapped, balling his hands into fists.

Gaster eyed him remindingly. Sans took deep breath, directing his gaze to the ground and muttering a bitter apology. Gaster said, “You have to focus, concentrate. You’ll know what I’m looking for when you feel it. Now, again.”

Sans continued for three more hours with little success. There was a moment where he thought he almost felt something out of the ordinary, but it was fleeting and he couldn’t manage to recreate it. Gaster was of little help; he simply sat in the sand and told the skeleton to keep going. His phantom hands waited anxiously for the chance to write, twitching sometimes and phasing in and out of existence slightly.

Sans stopped when he heard dull thuds in the distance. The training soldiers around him stopped too, moving off to the side to get water and rest. Most of them left toward the main camp. Must have been lunchtime.

“Don’t stop.” Gaster said, rolling his shoulders and stretching stiff limbs. He didn’t acknowledge the leaving soldiers.

Sans glared at the doctor. “It’s break time.”

“For them.” Gaster said, “For you, it’s not. You don’t get to stop until I get what I need.”

“I’m hungry.”

“That’s nice. Get your magic to work and you’ll get food.” Gaster rolled his neck and bristled slightly in Sans direction. Sans turned around with a frown to see a small group of soldiers approaching. They sat on the other side of Sans, opposite of Gaster, watching as the skeleton huffed and tried again.

“Oi, look at that.” One of the men said to his companion loudly. “The _monster_ can use blue magic. I bet we’ll learn _lots_ from that.” Many of the men laughed and shot glances at Gaster. The doctor ignored them.

“Hey _monster,_ look here.” Sans stopped and was about to turn, but Gaster made a noise of annoyance. The message was clear: ignore them. Sans sighed, shaking out his hands and picking up the sand again. Of course, nothing new or different happened. “Oi, _monster,_ are you deaf as well as useless? Look this way.”

Sans glanced at Gaster who arched an eyebrow at the skeleton. Gaster might have the patience and indifference to withstand their mocking but Sans didn’t. Sans turned to the human, only to be hit with a tomato. The skeleton grunted, wiping off his face as the men began to laugh. His soul flared with angry magic that pushed to be used against them. Sans took a threatening step forward only to be stopped in his tracks by purple magic. He spun around to face the doctor. He opened his jaw to say something, but was cut off as the men began to laugh.

“Maybe you should keep your mutt on a tighter leash, Doc.” The same man called out, elbowing his friends. “You might get its fleas on us too. Then we’d all be in the pits with you.”

“Do you have a problem, Mr.Smith?” Gaster asked, eyes flaring, but never left his relaxed sitting position. “Because I’d be happy to resolve it if you have the guts to test your mettle.”

Sans gathered that this man was not a first time offender. The man looked at his friends, but they only stared back expectantly. Sans realized what Gaster was doing. Gaster was a highly capable mage. If he and the man sparred, he would undoubtedly win. But if the man backed down, he would be shamed by his companions. Either way, this ‘Smith’ lost.

“I was just saying.” The man hissed, desperately trying to redeem himself in front of his friends. So he was coward. “Gotta be careful with ‘em, Doc.”

“I am well aware, thank you.” Gaster said tersely. “Now, if you would please, I would like you to allow my subject to concentrate so I might gain suitable data.”

The man’s face went slack in relief. Gaster was letting him go and giving him a way to save face. The man scrambled to his feet saying, “Come on guys.”

The other men slowly stood up, laughing, talking, and making fun of their vocal companion. They all shuffled their way out of the training lot and back to the main camp. Sans went back to angrily wiping at the tomato on his face. He started as the paste was grabbed in blue magic and pulled cleanly off his face. Sans turned to the doctor with narrowed sockets.

“I... apologize for the interruption.” Gaster said carefully. “Some of the men in camp are more vocal about their hatred for monsters. But they generally fear me more than they hate you. So. Let us continue, shall we?”

After that, the remaining hours were unspectacular. More men came back about an hour later, but these ones were even more indifferent to Sans than the ones in the morning. Three more hours and the thuds in the distance sounded again, calling the men back to the camp for dinner. The lot was largely empty except for Sans, Gaster, and a couple of stragglers. The sun had almost disappeared behind the horizon and the sky was a dark purple. Sans tried again, with nothing to show for it. He grunted, kicking the sand in frustration.

Gaster watched the skeleton throw his tantrum with mild disinterest. At least the doctor had remained attentive the whole time, but Sans wasn’t sure if that made this whole ordeal better or worse. Once Sans had stopped and was just puffing quietly and covered in sand, Gaster sat up, running a hand over his face tiredly. “Maybe if you slowed down and stopped letting your emotions get the better of you, you might find what I want. Focus, concentrate. Don’t lose your head.”

Sans frowned slightly, concentrating. Slowly, painfully slowly, he drew out some blue magic from his soul and consciously directed it at the sand. Everything stopped for a brief moment as his soul and mind truly worked together. He could see it in his mind’s eye: some strange force was pulling down the sand, Gaster, the last of the training soldiers, the air, even,   _everything_ , keeping it planted onto the earth as it moved and spinned, hanging on absolutely _nothing,_ that same force pulling the planet into a rotation around the sun. His magic gripped that force and morphed it, making it stop pulling the sand down and pushed it up. But that wasn’t right. The force was bending, not pushing the sand up, but pulling it up until it reached the point where Sans wanted it and lessened until it was simply suspended there.

Sans gasped, his concentration shattering like glass and letting the force return to its original state. For a moment, he could still see it, the force moving back, fluid like water, tugging the sand back to the ground with a soft hissing sound. The skeleton took in several heaving breaths, soul thrumming wildly in his chest. He looked around frantically, but no one else appeared to think anything was out of the ordinary.

“How did it feel?” Gaster shot to his feet, summoned hands leaning in excitedly. A small, curious smile split his face creepily. “Quickly, before you lose it!”

Too late. The entire experience had already began to fade from Sans’ mind, and he could scarcely remember what had gotten him so upset in the first place. He frantically lunged for whatever scraps he could grasp onto. “It- it was like I could see what was making the sand stick to the ground and changed  it so it wasn’t anymore.”

Gaster’s smile grew a little as his magic hands recorded the information. “Exactly as I had thought.” He muttered to himself before he left out a quiet, choked sort of laugh.

Sans’ curiosity beat out his better judgement. He asked, “What?”

Gaster froze, smile melting off his face. He looked around, blinking, as if he had forgotten where he was. “Come.” He ordered tersely. Sans groaned as the sickening weight of Gaster’s magic settled on his soul. Gaster was already moving away, making his hands motions again. Sans went to follow him, but crumpled to the ground like a sack that suddenly had been cut and let all its flour pour out. Sans grunted, struggling to push himself up on shaking limbs. When he tried to stand, he simply slipped back down into the sand with an “oof”.

Gaster paused at the sound, slowly turning around. “Oh.” Was all he said after skipping several beats. “Of course. You just spent the entire day using magic. Your soul would have taken energy from your body to power the spells. Well, that is easily remedied.” Gaster’s eyes flared into a blue, picking up Sans with magic. _Pulling up._ Sans found himself thinking, though he couldn’t fathom why. He hadn’t realized how absolutely exhausted he was until now. Before, the frustration kept him powering through it, his thirst for knowledge almost comparable to the doctor’s. Before he knew it, Sans began dozing off as the human carried him back across the field, through the camp, and finally depositing him in his cage on his bedroll. Sans was roused briefly when he felt the cold of the floor seeping through his bedroll, but he then blacked out immediately.

* * *

 

Gaster watched the monster for a moment before shuffling over with a sigh to his shelves. He took a minute to look at his collection, as awful and morbid as it was. The harvest of just over six months of work. He picked up one of the jars, the swirling soul matter inside casting a strange glow on his hands. He wondered if the essence of a soul knew when it was being handled by its killer. Probably not, as it was basically just liquid magic, but Gaster liked to muse. He wondered what his mother would think now, if she knew what he was doing. He sat down at his desk, setting the jar down with a soft clink. He tried to imagine the disappointment and pain on her face when she learned of what he was doing for her, but he couldn’t rightly remember what she looked like anymore. He sighed, squeezing his eyes shut and racking his brain.

He remembered... brown eyes. Not dull brown eyes like dry, old wood, but bright brown eyes that brimmed with life, like the richest soil. Thin, perfectly pink lips that looked so lovely when they were smiling. Luscious brown hair that tumbled down her head to cradle her shoulders. He imagined her smiling and her small, gentle hands signing his name. _Adrian._ He signed it to himself without thinking. When was the last time he had even heard his first name spoken? He couldn’t recall.

His soul gave a homesick lurch. He laid a hand on his sternum, scolding himself. He knew what happened when he thought of home, and yet he still did. Like a child told not to touch the fire, he thrust his hand in just to spite what he knew was for the best.

His soul buzzed with pent up magic, so with a sigh he summoned a ball of light to work by. The sphere of magic was just bright enough to read by, but not dazzling enough to wake Sans. Gaster mulled over what the skeleton had said about blue magic.

He knew so much about magic. Ignorant people thought of magic as an unholy, law-breaking force spawned from demons. The church, at least, certainly fueled these lies. Magic wasn’t law-breaking: it was law-using, law-changing. Magic was quantifiable, something that could be conceptualized. It was like a living thing, in a way, that flowed through each person and monster and buzzed in the air. Humans and monsters were born with a soul type: that soul type not only determined what kind of person they would be, but it also laid the groundwork for magic. One would be born with an innate ability. In humans, these abilities were rarely evident as human souls typically didn’t have enough magic for even something that costed next to no magic to use. In monsters, however, these abilities were accessed as early as one year old. Gaster had so far discovered only four of these abilities. Kindness had healing magic. If one was born without a Kindness soul, they would never be able to use healing magic. Bravery had rallying magic. If activated, people around them would feel more energized, and, if the skill was cultivated enough, might even raise their Attack, Defense, and/or max HP. Patience had the ability to slow down time. The amount varied depending on the user’s skill, but it usually wasn’t by very much. Justice. The base trait of his soul. He had Karmic Retribution, as he called it. It gave attack spells a poisoning effect that slowly ate away at HP. He had found that this ability was the only one that didn’t depend on the user’s skill for its potency; it did more damage the more Execution Points the target had. Then the skeleton had mentioned an Eye of Integrity. Integrity souls were relatively rare, so Gaster couldn’t really be blamed for not yet knowing for certain, but that must be an innate ability as well. That would explain how the skeleton was able to burrow into the doctor’s soul without a drop of magic in his own soul.

Gaster was working on a way to develop the abilities in soul types they didn’t belong to, but had had little success thus far. So instead, he just made spells for the mages. Most spells he created were magics that didn’t belong in any specific magic category and simply took the aura of white, as that was the natural color of magic. Most mages had to use runes and speak incantations channel their magic into spells. But when a person was as skilled as Gaster, the middle man could be cleanly cut out. That didn’t mean that Gaster _never_ used runes though. They effectively channeled magic better than if they weren’t there at all, so he’d use them for things he had to constantly expend magic for. Like the runes cancelling Sans’ magic.

Magic that matched a soul type also had an amplified ability. That’s why he had to have a soul of Integrity to learn about how Integrity magic worked; anyone else wouldn’t have strong enough magic to know. Sans had said it was changing whatever force kept everything on the ground, which was along the lines of what Gaster had thought. So how could Gaster morph that knowledge into an effective spell? Well, first he had to do that...

He sighed, twisting open the jar of liquid magic. He could think on it while he worked. He clenched the magic in harsh blue magic, letting the liquid absorb the magic type.

Peacefully, unwittingly, Sans slept in the corner. Gaster began to tweak the substance, adding small doses of other magic types, enchanting it with different spells, before finally filling a syringe with the strange concoction. It glowed blue, swirling angrily inside the glass. Gaster watched it for several long moments, morbidly mesmerized by the motion. He trusted his abilities. He knew that this should work. He had gotten it to work with Kindness and Bravery. There was no reason it should be any different with an Integrity soul.

Still, Gaster silently prayed to God that this wouldn’t kill the monster. Not that God had ever showed mercy to either of them.


	4. An Experiment and A Talk

Sans didn’t dream that night. He simply slept, and all too soon he was peeling his sockets open to face whatever hell the doctor had for him today. He felt so _tired_ and his stomach gave a rueful growl to remind him Gaster hadn’t provided lunch or dinner yesterday. Sans sat up, stretching stiff limbs.

Gaster was working at his desk. Sans wondered if he was asleep for that long, or if the human simply didn’t leave. Sans glanced around, but he already knew there wasn’t a bed in here for him. So if Gaster had really stayed here all night, he probably didn’t sleep at any point. Sans  curiously watched him work for a while. The human had put all the papers on his desk into a pile, and was currently scribbling on another. He would pause every few seconds, then continue writing or he would mutter a spell then continue working.

Sans couldn’t help but wonder what he was doing. Not only did he have a glass jar of blue soul essence, but he had several painful looking medical instruments next to it. What could he possibly be researching with those two things? Sans’ stomach did a flip, and he thought he might throw up. _Me._ He realized, soul thrumming so loudly in his ribcage he was half surprised the human didn’t seem to hear it.

Oh no, no, no, no. Sans wasn’t ready to die! He had too much to live for! His breathing began coming in raggedly, borderline heaving gasps. He held his breath as Gaster stopped in his work and looked like he might turn around. The human listened for several frenzied soulbeats before resuming whatever he was doing. Sans quietly sighed out the breath he was holding, forcing himself to calm down. He had just gotten here, after all. The doctor probably wouldn’t kill him so soon, but he would experiment on him. He was a test subject after all. Sans just had to steel himself for the worst. He mustered up some courage and opened his jaw to say something.

The door was flung open, slamming into the stone wall loudly. Sans jumped, shooting into a half-standing, half-crouching position. Gaster didn’t fare any better; the man had almost fallen out of his chair, knocking the jar off his desk. He grabbed it with blue magic before it could shatter on the floor, turning angrily with blue eyes to whoever had interrupted his work.

“G’morning, Gaster!” Ms.Lytle said cheerily, skipping inside. Gaster didn’t say anything as he set his jar back on the desk. “I didn’t see you at breakfast.”

He shrugged, glancing over to where Sans was frozen in his crazy looking position against the wall. “Are you hungry?” He asked in monster. Sans slowly stood up all the way and nodded. Gaster snapped his fingers and an apple appeared on top of the stack of papers. No, that wasn’t right. As Sans watched, the paper on top of the stack _turned into_ an apple. Sans stared speechlessly as Gaster picked it up and rolled it into the cage.

“Gaster! That’s no breakfast!” Ms.Lytle exclaimed. “And what are you going to eat?”

“Nothing.” Gaster deadpanned. “I don’t need to, and it would take too long anyways. I don’t see you eating, monster.” He added, looking at Sans impatiently. Sans started, lunging for the apple and sinking his teeth into it without thinking twice. It... felt and tasted just like an actual apple. It was actually very good, the perfect crunchiness and sweetness. Sans munched it contentedly as he watched Lytle and Gaster duke it out.

“What do you mean you don’t need to eat? Everyone needs to eat!” Lytle crossed her arms expectantly, batting her eyes as she waited for an answer.

Gaster’s expression of subtle annoyance didn’t change in the slightest. “The magic in my soul gives my body energy. I don’t need to eat and sleep nearly as often as a regular human. Now, I didn’t summon you so you could scold me. I-”

“I’ll be back.” Lytle turned and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Gaster blinked, mouth still open.

Sans pointedly bit into his apple loudly, teeth clacking as he chewed it. Gaster narrowed his eyes at him, to which Sans only grinned. The human sighed, sitting back down at his chair and fiddling with the instruments on his desk. After a moment, Gaster let out a tense sigh and stood up again. He started signing again and pacing this time too. He’d walk from the corner of his desk to the opposite wall Sans leaned against, then back.

“What’cha nervous for?” The skeleton asked through his last mouthful of apple. He set the core next to the foot of his bedroll and held his head in his hand. The doctor stopped abruptly, glancing at the monster with an unreadable expression.

“Well,” he said eventually, “I suppose I can tell you now while we’re waiting. I need to test something on you. You may or may not live through it.”

The rest of the world seemed to fall away. Sans drew in a sharp breath and remained there. The human looked at him, waiting for a response. Sans closed his sockets and returned the human’s gaze. “I’m not dying.” Sans said with more certainty that he felt. “I’ve got too much to live for.”

“Well, the decision isn’t really in your hands, but that determination will do you good.” Gaster replied, pacing again.

“So, why are you nervous?” Sans asked again, confused.

Gaster froze. Sans waited for him to give an answer, but received none. The skeleton frowned at the back of the human. When Gaster finally spoke his voice was quiet. “You have a soul of Integrity. Those are rare and I’d hate to lose it. That’s all.”

For some unexplainable reason, Sans knew that wasn’t the only reason why Gaster didn’t want Sans to die, but he couldn’t think of any other possible reason. Sans racked his brain for some sort of response but the door opening again spared him from one.

Lytle entered carrying two plates filled to the brim with food. She looked perfectly annoyed, but the expression didn’t seem to fit right on her face. Like a child playing dress-up it soon fell away and reality took over once again. The woman smiled at Gaster, triumphantly thrusting the plate into his hands. “The cooks weren’t very happy.” She explained, sliding the dish into Sans’ cage. It had more eggs and bread, but came with a juicy sausage this time. Sans dug in happily, putting the egg on top of the bread and taking a bite of that then taking a bite of the sausage. Lytle saw him doing this and smiled again, continuing, “but they like me, so I got them to make you two some breakfast before they started cleaning up. You two should be grateful, a minute later and they would have already been packing up.”

“Thank you.” Sans mumbled through his mouth full of food.

Lytle beamed at him. “Why, you’re welcome, Sans.” She turned to Gaster and batted her eyes.

Gaster blinked back at her, gingerly nibbling at his sausage.

“A thank you would be nice, Gaster.” She finally said when she realized he wasn’t taking the hint.

“The monster said thank you.” Gaster said, the glow of his eyes dimming in confusion.

“It’s polite for all parties included to say thank you.” Lytle explained with a frown. She crossed her arms. “Have you ever interacted with another person before?”

With a world-weary sigh, Gaster relented. “Thank you.”

Lytle grinned from ear to ear at the doctor. “You are quite welcome, Gaster. Now, what did you summon me for?”

“Ah, yes.” Gaster suddenly seemed uncomfortable and set the plate down on his desk. “I need you on standby in case things take a turn for the rest.”

Lytle froze, the smile sliding off her face. “What?” She looked from Gaster to Sans, then back to the doctor. “What are you going to do?” Her tone took on an edge like a sword and her expression darkened slightly.

Gaster sighed, crossing his arms and closing his eyes. “I know it may be hard for a Kindness soul like yourself-”

“No!” Lytle exclaimed, balling her hands into fists. “It shouldn’t be different for different soul types! It shouldn’t be easier for some to hurt and to kill, Gaster! Don’t you understand that?” Lytle’s face scrunched up, and Sans thought with a twinge of panic that she might cry. “It’s wrong to hurt.” She whispered, glancing at Sans. “It’s wrong to kill. What if you were in their place?”

Gaster was silent for several long moments. He splayed his hands out in front of him helplessly. “Ms.Lytle,” Gaster began and as he spoke, his voice became even more monotone, if that was even possible. Like he was reciting something ingrained in his mind, “The morality of what must transpire in this place does not matter. This is war, and war is beyond one person’s control. We cannot afford to slow down. If we do not kill them, they _will_ kill us. If you cannot stomach what I must do,” Gaster added, a hint of empathy touching his voice, “then I will call another who can. You don’t have to do this.”

Lytle shook quietly, squeezing her eyes shut. She looked at Sans, her green eyes glossy and filled with both despair and kindness. “No.” Lytle said eventually. “I’ll stay.” Gaster nodded, moving to gather some instruments. “But Doctor?” Lytle asked, making Gaster pause and look back at her. “Does,” Lytle licked her lips and stared down at her feet, “does letting you do this... make me evil?” Sans realized suddenly how young Lytle actually was. From his knowledge of humans, she couldn’t have been over eighteen years old.

Gaster, for some reason, gave the girl a tiny,gentle smile. If he noticed that Lytle had just insinuated he was evil, he did not mention it. “No,” he said hoarsely, “Only when you don’t mind the evil happening in the world anymore does that make you evil.”

Lytle nodded, hugging herself and moving to lean against the wall. She must have caught sight of Sans’ worried expression for she gave him a tired smile. “I’ll be right here,” she told him reassuringly in monster, “if you need me. I won’t let you die.”

“Alright,” Gaster announced, straightening, a syringe filled with blue,thick liquid held in his left hand, “It’s time, monster.” Lytle sighed and she seemed to collapse in on herself. Gaster glanced at her, frowning slightly, “Would you like to wait outside, Ms.Lytle?”

“No.” She answered softly. “Please just proceed and let me know when you need me.”

Sans glared at the doctor as he opened the door to his cage. He scooted away from the doctor until he was pressed against the wall. “What are you going to do?”

Gaster gripped Sans in purple magic, freezing him in his tracks. His voice seemed distant and detached as he began to explain. “As I’m sure you’ve noticed,” Gaster began moving the skeleton with blue magic so he was lying down on his back, his eyes swirling a mesmerizing mixture of purple and blue, “humans don’t typically have any magic to spare in their souls. Creating magic for humans to use won’t do much good if they can’t use it. People that have enough magic in their souls for battling purposes are few and far inbetween, so I was commissioned to find a solution to this. I found that the easiest and least life-threatening way was to simply enlarge the size of a person’s soul so that it could accommodate more magic. However, the composition of souls vary with the different soul types, but once I have a loose understanding of how a particular magic type works, I can create a substance that should work.”

“Should?” Sans asked worriedly as the human pulled his shirt up with his magic.

“Should.” Gaster confirmed, summoning a spectral hand and giving it the syringe. “Though the process is very painful either way, from my understanding.”

“Let me guess,” Sans said giggling nervously as the hand floated closer, “you’ve never gone through it.”

“Not myself, no.” Gaster responded, carefully guiding the magic hand with his physical left hand. “Once a soul reaches a certain size, it will cease to hold itself together, and all the magic will diffuse into the atmosphere. As the entire soul is composed entirely of magic, though not all of it accessible for use, the person would consequently die. My soul is just under that size.”

Sans sucked in a breath as the spectral hand moved into range of his soul. Lytle closed her eyes and turned away. Gaster glanced in Sans’ eyes. “You may want to close your sockets.”

Sans purposefully watched as the hand grew even closer, twitching slightly before it plunged the syringe into his soul. It was like liquid fire- no, liquid lava- injected straight in his soul. He distantly felt himself struggle against Gaster’s purple magic as it kept him from thrashing and hurting himself on the stone floor. He thought for a moment that he might pass out from the pain, but a moment later it was too awful for him to possibly lose consciousness. Somewhere else, past the fire in his soul, he could feel himself screaming himself hoarse and crying hot tears. Sometime else, through the water in his sockets, he could see Lytle leaning over him, could see her mouth moving quickly and her brow furrowed in frenzied worry. A few moments after that sometime later, there was a sensation like a drop of water hitting that lava in his soul, cooling it slightly. Then another, and another, until it was raining and that lava turned into a roaring fire. Sans heaved in one ragged breath after another as the pain rolled over him in waves. He felt cool hands pulling him gently into a sitting position and running up and down his spine. He clung onto that coolness, burrowing himself in whoever’s bosom was already holding him closely, protectively. He gulped in a huge breath before retching magic onto the floor, body spasming violently before he was grabbed in purple magic again. Again, that cooling sprinkle of rain showered down on the fire in his soul, the essence of his very being, calming the roar of the fire until it was just a crackle that leaped over the gap between soul and body, sending lances of pain throughout his bones. Sans gripped the arms of whoever had them around him, sobbing into them until the pain and exhaustion won and he was lulled into unconsciousness.

* * *

Gaster waited with bated breath as Lytle held the skeleton close, desperately trying to keep his HP up. He could see Sans health bar slowly inching lower and lower despite the healer’s best efforts, quickly approaching the single digits. _Come on, Sans. You promised me you wouldn’t die_.

Lytle was crying silently, tears falling from her eyes and landing on the monster’s skull. She rocked him back and forth, eyes glowing a bright green like summer grass. “Gaster,” She wailed, looking up at the doctor, “What if I’m not enough?”

“Hush,” Gaster said as gently as he could. Which, granted, was not very gently, “Just concentrate.”

Lytle turned her attention back to Sans, running a thumb along the dent of his skull. “I know,” she whimpered, “that he’s a monster, but I still don’t want him to die. He’s a living creature like us, I don’t care what the church says. If monsters exist then God must have created them, right? Why would he then command us to kill them? It doesn’t make any sense.”

“It doesn’t have to.” Gaster said. “The church claims the backing of God, and thus claims all the power and wealth. As far as anyone is concerned, their word is law, and there no one dares speak against the law.”

“It’s not right.”

“No one ever said it was.” Gaster replied, inhaling sharply as the skeleton’s health hit eight. “But few things in this world are.”

“Gaster, do you believe what the church says?” Lytle asked, looking up at the doctor again.

He bit off the affirmation he was instinctively about to give. This- this was Ms.Lytle, after all. She wouldn’t turn him in for his next words. Hopefully, at least, as he was already speaking them, “No. I don’t. I’m not even sure I believe in a god anymore. Not if he lets evil like this happen.” _Not if he let creatures like me exist._

Lytle was silent for a moment as they watched Sans’ HP fall to six. “Do you want to do these things? Do you want to hurt the monsters, watch them die? I know I don’t.”

Gaster felt an empty pit open in his stomach as Sans’ health fell to three. “No. I never did, but people rarely care what you want if it opposes their needs.”

“Then why do you do it? What can they do to you that’s worse than _this_?” Lytle looked up at him, and he thought that by her body language she didn’t want to watch what happened next.

Gaster had seen too much to be fazed though. He watched pensively as Sans HP hovered at two before crashing down to one. The doctor held his breath, waiting for it to hit zero and Lytle to suddenly be covered in white dust. But several moments later when neither of those events occurred, Gaster smiled tiredly at Lytle. “Because love is irrational.” Lytle furrowed her brow at him questioningly, but Gaster stopped her from asking whatever new question she was forming in her head. “You did it, Juliet.” He smiled at her, kneeling down next to her and gently turning her head so she could see for herself the monster’s health bar. New tears formed in her eyes as she regarded that single digit that struggled to persevere. She gasped, tears spilling over, and she was laughing a mad laugh of relief. Gaster watched her silently, before grabbing Sans in blue magic and setting him down on his bedroll.

Lytle was still laughing, clutching at her sides and curling into a ball on the floor. Gaster let her have her breakdown, stepping over her and grabbing the puddle of sick with blue magic. It was still good magic, just too much for the monster's body to accommodate at once. He put in into a spare jar and set that into an empty cubby on the wall. He collapsed into his chair to begin tinkering again with the spell he was working on. After another couple of minutes, the healer’s laughs petered off until she was just lying on the floor.

“Gaster?”

“Yes?”

“I’m so glad Sans is alive.”

Gaster squeezed his eyes shut. He knew the girl was waiting for him to agree with her, but he could feel it, souls approaching. Souls with magic in them that would eavesdrop on whatever was being said inside the building. “You shouldn’t say that.”

He heard Lytle shoot into a sitting position behind him, could feel her angry gaze boring holes into his skull. “Why?”

“You might be branded a monster sympathizer.”

“That’s hardly the worst that could happen.” Lytle scoffed, slowly climbing to her feet.

“I beg to differ, Ms.Lytle. You might argue that this cruelty we are forced to express is the worst, but on the contrary, if you were not here Sans would have died just now. As it is, he is barely alive. If you were branded a monster sympathizer, you’d burn at the stake, and then you couldn’t help any more monsters.”

“Well,” Lytle said after a moment, “I can say it around you. You wouldn’t turn me in, would you?”

“Of course not.” Gaster said, sighing as he felt the prying souls coming almost into range to use their magic. “But I’m not always the only one that’s listening.”

Lytle frowned and opened her mouth, but Gaster turned to her with a finger on his lip. Her frown deepened, but thankfully she didn’t say anything. “Go get something to eat and some rest.” Gaster suggested, going back to his work. “You’ll need it after expending so much magic.”

“I don’t think I can walk.” She admitted, staring down at her hands. Gaster looked at her, mildly surprised, but he supposed that only made sense. She had not been prepared to let Sans die, and wouldn’t have had a problem using energy from her body to power her magic, as inefficient a magic source as that was.

“You should be careful with that.” He replied, picking up her and the stool in Sans’s cage. He dropped the stool on the floor next to the edge of his desk before depositing the healer on top. “Use too much of your body’s energy and your heart will stop beating.”

“I know, Gaster,” She replied with a phantom smile. “I am a healer, you know, even if I am young. Are you going to eat that?” She pointed to his cold breakfast.

He afforded her a small smile, pushing the plate toward her. Gaster was suddenly glad he was having one of his better days where he felt alive enough to give a damn about other people. If he wasn’t, he was afraid to think of what mental state Juliet would be in right now. She happily dug in without complaint, munching on the sausage as she watched Gaster work on the new spell he was developing.

As he erased a line of the rune that wouldn’t work with the spell he had in mind, he wondered if all his days with the skeleton would be so easy.


	5. People Are Annoying (but maybe not all of them)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was going to wait until tomorrow to post this chapter, but it's done now, so why not post it now? Again, thanks for the positive feedback so far guys! Ahhhhh, ya'll are filling me with DETERMINATION.

About an hour later, Gaster stopped as he heard the soft patter of rain on the roof. At least he knew the spell he used to predict the weather worked. He sighed, leaning back and looking down at the jumble of lines that would probably look like the scribblings of a child to anyone else, but made perfect sense to the doctor. This spell was more ambitious than any other he had ever tried to create before, and he wasn’t even sure it would work once it was completed. Magic, contrary to popular belief, did have some limitations, though Gaster hadn’t yet found what really set them or exactly what they were. He would just know he had pushed past them when a spell didn’t work. Considering he was already hours into this spell’s creation and he wasn’t even two percent done with the rune, not to mention if it would need words too, he might have to drop it for now and come back to it later. He sighed, writing his general vision for what the spell would accomplish on the side and setting the paper on top of his stack of other unfinished spells.

He rubbed his eyes tiredly, wishing vainly that the magic in his soul might calm down enough to let him sleep some, but of course that wouldn’t happen. He just had to ignore the pain in the front of his head and the burning in his eyes and pretend that he wasn’t exhausted. Lytle, on the other hand, was sleeping soundly, head laid on his desk and face buried in the crook of her arm. She had fallen asleep almost immediately after she had finished Gaster’s breakfast. Gaster reached into a drawer of his desk, pulling out a spare blanket he kept in there in case the frenzied magic his soul spontaneously decided to let him sleep some. He unfolded it and laid it across the girl’s shoulders.

“I’m going out for a bit, Ms.Lytle.” He said softly, stepping back.

She mumbled some noise of acknowledgement, turning her head onto its other side and snuggling deeper into the blanket.

Gaster quickly checked in on Sans. The monster’s health had risen to two in the time that had passed. So he could count this test as a success. Well, his superiors would definitely be happy about that. They'd probably want to know right away.

Gaster sighed, exiting the cage and locking the door behind him, not that he thought Sans would be waking up anytime soon. The skeleton didn't move in the slightest, face contorted in a constant state of pain. Gaster almost felt pity for him. But the thought of meeting with the three people in the world that had power over him was making his soul shrivel up in his chest again.

The doctor stepped outside, summoning a shield of green above him to block the rain. The camp was largely devoid of the usual bustle and buzz of people. Soldiers had no place to train and children had no place to play that was safe from the water. As Gaster walked, he passed a few rowdy boys wrestling in the mud and some agitated messengers slick with water, but none appeared to notice him. Or at the very least, didn't acknowledge him.

It was a long walk to the castle. The grand, imposing structure towered above the rest of the buildings, a testament of times where such frivolous things could be afforded. But the war had been persisting for years, and as any good ruler knew, war was expensive.

As Gaster scaled the steps leading to the doorway, he noted the chipped stones and dirty walls. The building had certainly seen better days, and he wondered idly how long this would continue. How long would humans continue to spend money, time, resources, and lives on killing monsters? How long would it be until the once beautiful castle was given the attention it deserved? He couldn't say, but he wish he knew. Then it might be easier to hold on until then.

No servants greeted him as he opened the grand wooden doors leading inside. No guards patrolled the halls as Gaster took the familiar route to the map room. There was one standing at the entrance to the room, but he didn’t shift in the slightest. Gaster was almost certain the man was dozing off; as the doctor watched his head began to tilt to the side before it nodded up again. Gaster strode past him, opening the door and entering.

The room was just as he remembered it from a month ago, when he had last had to report here. Huge yet stuffy, the room was square with a large wooden table in the center, a huge map laid carefully across its surface. There were several pins and markers designating known monster camps along as which ones had been taken. No human camps had yet been taken, and the monsters were steadily being pushed back toward the Caucasus Mountains. The doctor would probably have to move to a camp in Russia to be closer to the front lines. The idea of leaving his home country of Germany made him uneasy, but honestly it would be a relief to leave this place behind.

Two men stood at opposite ends of the table, arguing. One was Duke Jansen, a shrewd little man brought from the Netherlands to keep the camp running. The other was Father Michael, the head priest in the camp that kept all the soldiers just as self-righteous as him. The Duke spared the doctor a glance, a notable grimace crossing his face before he turned back to the priest. Gaster stepped inside, moving to stand next to the doorway while they finished up.

“...will not stand for it!” The priest was saying loudly, face beet red. Gaster wondered how he hadn’t heard it from the corridor.

Duke Jansen sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He plastered on a wide smile, steepling his fingers together in front of him. Despite the warm visage, the man’s voice was icy and belittling. “Father Michael,” the duke said, as if speaking to a child, “mages are highly capable of leading a unit. To reach their status, they must be extremely intelligent individuals. Beyond that, their prowess on the battlefield simply cannot be challenged by any normal soldier. There would be none better suited for the positions.”

“No, no, no, don’t you see?” The Father said, stepping around the table. “Magic is the art of the devil! Why do you think we must fight the _monsters_ in the first place? They are unholy creatures able to take the souls of humans and use magic to survive. Mages are hardly better! They use their magic just as freely as the monsters! Why do you think normal humans are born without access to magic? Those who can use magic have been touched by the devil, just as the _monsters_ have. We can not put them on a pedestal like that. Once the war is over, magic must be eliminated from the human race. Magicians must conform to the laws of our God, or they will be eliminated as well.”

Gaster cleared his throat.

The priest stopped cold, turning slowly to where the doctor leaned against the wall. “I mean,” the priest amended quickly, swallowing loudly, “mages are very useful in carrying out God’s will of killing monsters. However, magic users must be slowly be taken out of society as well, once the war is over.”  
Gaster turned away disinterestedly as Duke Jansen began speaking again. Not before noticing Michael relaxed as Gaster’s attention left him. “Father, I understand what you are saying. However, many of our mages here go unrecognized and unappreciated. If not the leaders of units, what would you say to tacticians? Their intelligence would go a long way on the battlefield, and they would have an advantage over regular strategists by being able to go fearlessly onto the battlefield to watch the flow of the battle themselves.”

The priest sighed tiredly, glancing at Gaster again. Gaster found it almost funny how this man was the one that held his life in his hands, yet seemed positively terrified of him. Almost. “Alright.” The priest relented. “Tacticians. But knowledge of their positions is to remain discreet. Unit leaders and the mages only.”

Duke Jansen’s face split with a cat-like grin, predatory and hungry. “I can work with that, I can certainly work with that. Thank you, Father.”

“‘And in all matters of wisdom and understanding, that the king enquired of them, he found them ten times better than all the magicians and astrologers that were in all his realm.’” Father Michael quoted, peering down his nose at Jansen. “I’d watch yourself, for God sees all, Duke Jansen. I wouldn’t rely on your demon work for too much.”

“First Daniel, one, twenty.” Gaster muttered, looking up at the priest. The priest paled, staring at the demon conspirer that knew scripture.

“Watch yourself, Gaster.” The priest spat, “And speak to me with respect. As much as I adore your work in killing monsters, I could always look deeper into how you treat them.”

Gaster remained silent. The priest looked from the doctor to the duke before nodding and taking his leave.

The duke sighed after the door slammed shut, rolling his shoulders and regarding Gaster coldly. “Can I help you, Gaster? Or did you just come to stand there and insult the priest?”

“The latest test has proven successful.” The doctor reported, crossing his arms just so that the duke wouldn’t see him fidgeting with his hands. “Any Integrity souls can now be enhanced.”

The duke sighed, planting his hands on the map table and leaning over it. “Alright,” he replied, picking up a marker and inspecting it closely, “I’ll inform the Arch-mage when he returns. You may go pick one out now, if you’re ready.”

“Returns, milord?” Gaster asked, choosing to remember the title this time.

“Yes.” The duke responded, setting the little item back in its place. “We had reports of earth elementals in a forest a few miles to the east. We don’t know how they got there, just that they're there now. The Arch-mage left to dispose of them. Any luck with new spells?”

“Not much yet,” Gaster admitted, “But blue magic shows great potential. I simply haven’t much time to explore it yet.”

“Good, good,” The duke answered, nodding. He grinned suddenly, clapping his hands together, “Ah, Gaster, it’s so good to see the progress. I know you don’t much of how far we’ve come, holed up in your lab all the time and all, but sitting here, looking down at the world, it’s so easy to see. We’ll get there one day soon.” The man continued, a greedy glint in his eye. “The day where all those devilish monsters are burning in hell.” _And your pockets are lined with their wealth that’s left behind._

“Yes, quite.” Gaster muttered in return. “If I may be excused to return to my work?” The duke nodded absently, his eyes shining with the promise of gold in the near future.

The rain had picked up, casting the world in a dreary dark gray and cold water. Gaster was about to summon a shield to block the onslaught, but decided it wasn’t worth the effort. He stepped out into the rain and was almost instantly soaked by the pelting drops. He thought the chill might startle him into feeling... _something_ , but he was just as empty as when he was warm and dry. He sighed, trekking through the mud toward the apprentices’ chambers. ‘Apprentice’ was a loose term here as they were just adolescents without access to magic in their souls learning spells. They were just waiting and hoping that Gaster would develop a way to put magic into their souls. Chambers was a loose term as well as, like his lab, the building they lived in used to be for storage and had simply been converted for their needs. Their building was at least bigger than Gaster’s, much bigger actually, as it had to house over twenty people and have room for a study/library. The two-story structure was, refreshingly enough, built out of wood as opposed to stone. Gaster banged on the door loudly and waited.

They didn’t keep him waiting long. A tall, blonde boy with blue eyes answered the door, peering out curiously at whatever madman was knocking on their door during the middle of a storm. His face lit up immediately upon seeing Gaster, no doubt with hope that the doctor brought good news with him. “Hello, Dr.Gaster.” The boy greeted him, opening the door and motioning inside. “Would you like to come in?”

“No, thank you.” Gaster refused, mopping black hair out of his eyes. “I just need all the boys of Integrity to come with me.”

The lad positively beamed at the doctor, puffing out his chest proudly. “I’m the only one with an Integrity soul.”

“Really? Well, what a stroke of luck.” Gaster reached forward, grabbing the boy around the wrist and dragging him out into the rain behind him.

“D-Dr.Gaster, please! It’s freezing out here! At least let me go put on shoes!” The boy pleaded, stumbling out after the doctor. Gaster regarded him dispassionately, noting his bare feet stuck in the mud, thick pants drenched with water, and flimsy cotton shirt plastered to his skin.

“If you can’t withstand this, you won’t make it as a mage.” Gaster answered coldly, continuing to lead the boy back to his lab. His footsteps made odd slurping sounds as the boy’s feet burrowed into the mud only to be pulled up just as quickly. The boy was panting in no time as he strained to keep up with the doctor’s long strides.

“I-I heard the Arch-mage trained you.” The boy said through chattering teeth. “Did he make you do things like this?”

“Yes.” Was Gaster’s terse response. Memories of those years under the Arch-mage began creeping back, but the doctor pushed them away. He didn’t have time for them right now. That hardly stopped them from coming though.

“That doesn’t seem very nice of him.” The boy commented, sucking in a sharp breath as he stepped on a stone. He cursed softly, jerking his arm away from Gaster, but the doctor’s grip was firm. He was pulled forward at the same time and ended up losing his balance, landing back in the mud. The boy swore, sitting up and inspecting the damages. “Where was his humanity?” The boy asked before glaring up at Gaster. “Where’s your humanity?”

“This is humanity.” Gaster snapped, folding his arms and quoting his teacher’s words from years ago when Gaster had asked him the same question. “Humanity is cruel and unjust and if you have a problem with that I suggest you go be a common soldier and just throw any shred of humanity out the window.” Well, that ending part was different, but what his teacher had told him was hardly relevant to the boy. Besides, the boy had a choice in the matter.

The boy flicked his hands, a few drops of mud flying off. Gaster realized suddenly how absolutely miserable the boy looked. He was shivering violently, teeth chattering. His clothes were thoroughly drenched, his hair stuck to his head, his foot had a small cut in it from where he stepped on the stone, and now he was covered in mud. Just because his teacher had been awful didn’t mean Gaster had to be as well. He sighed, summoning a shield of green above the boy’s head to block the rain. He then lifted the boy up with blue magic before muttering a spell that cleaned and dried his clothes. Gaster walked back to the mages’ chambers with the boy suspended in the air next to him, depositing him back inside the building. The boy looked up at him curiously as his feet hit dry ground.

“I apologize for my harsh conduct.” The doctor said, fighting the bitter feeling rising in his chest. “Come by my lab when it stops raining.”

The boy frowned at him, but nodded. “What made you change your mind?” He asked.

Gaster looked down at the child, feeling ageless. The boy was probably around fifteen, definitely one of the younger trainees. He almost couldn’t believe that ten years ago, that had been him. Of course, he wasn’t quite so innocent then. He lost his innocence that day sixteen years ago when all he found in the woods was a pile of dust and a man with glowing white eyes like his.

“Humanity can be cruel and unjust, but it can also be kind and fair.” Gaster said after a moment. In reality, he didn’t really know what had made him bring the boy back. He had looked fairly miserable sitting there in the mud, but Gaster hadn’t felt any empathy then or even now. And cultivated indifference had replaced his sense of justice since his training with the Arch-mage. Gaster himself couldn’t fathom why he had shown the boy mercy. All he knew was that he had. He didn’t know he still had that in him. “As soon as it stops raining.” Gaster instructed again, pointing at the boy and arching his eyebrows. The boy nodded, smiling slightly. “Until then.”

“Thank you, doctor!” The boy called after him before slamming the door. Gaster wondered what that child’s life was like. He probably grew up a privileged youth of some affluent nobleman, and decided to become a mage on a whim. Those are the only kinds of apprentices Gaster ever encountered. After all, what parent would force the idea of becoming a mage onto their child? Training was, or at least should be, rigorous, and mages were heavily looked down upon by society. Still, the kind of power that mages had  drew people in. Like Duke Jansen, for example.

 _But Mother wanted me to be a mage._ Gaster thought, turning down the path leading to his lab. _And Father, in a way, did as well._ Gaster shouldn’t be so quick to judge. Just because the boy’s skin was pale and soft and he couldn’t even handle some cold water and mud, that didn’t mean his life had been _easy._

The thought almost made Gaster laugh.

He still had half the mind to go back and drag the boy through the rain to his lab just because he could. But he couldn’t bring himself to turn back. He couldn’t bear the idea of becoming like the Arch-mage, he realized suddenly. The Arch-mage was the embodiment of everything the doctor hated: cruel, selfish, arrogant, the list went on.

Lost in thought, the doctor accidentally slammed the door open. Lytle, who had since woken up and was trying to read his notes, jumped up three inches in her seat. She hurriedly placed the sheet back down on his desk and gave the doctor a nervous attempt at a innocent smile. “H-hello, Gaster.” She blinked, looking him up and down. “Oh my, you’re completely drenched! You’re going to catch a cold like that. Quick, change into something dry. Do you have- you don’t have a fireplace? How do you expect to warm up? What were you thinking going out there without an umbrella?”

Gaster sighed. He did not want to put up with this woman’s matronly nature; it reminded him too much of his mother. It must be a Kindness thing. Mustering up whatever shreds of patience Gaster had left he casted a spell to dry his clothes, then another to summon a ball of fire next to him. Lytle gasped softly, staring awestruck at the magic. Gaster gave her a look. “What?”

“That magic,” Lytle said dreamily, “I wish I could use magic like that.”

“You don’t know how? These spells are actually quite easy, and your soul obviously has the potential to cast them.” Gaster stepped over to his chair, the fire next to his head trailing behind him. He positioned it above and between their heads.

Lytle splayed her hands out in front of her, grimacing slightly. “I’ve never had formal training. I... just have magic in my soul and healing powers, so I was shipped off to be a healer.” She sighed, letting her hands fall into her lap. “But, it’s not like I thought it would be. Most soldiers refuse to be healed by magic and they don’t let green souls even near the front lines for some stupid reason. So, I’m stuck here doing oddball chores and healing whoever will let me.”

“So stuck here with me.”

Lytle looked up at him sheepishly. “I hadn’t meant for it to come off that way.”

“No, I understand,” Gaster sighed, bringing out a new sheet of paper to begin drawing on, “I wouldn’t want to be around me either.”

“Gaster-” She began, eyes filling with pity. The action flushed the doctor’s cheeks hot with anger. He did not need her pity or her sympathy, neither would do him any good.

“So, would you like to tell me why you were so guiltily reading my notes?” The doctor cut her off, picking up the sheet Lytle had put back. It was for the Integrity spell he was working on.

“I just wanted to see what you were working on.” She explained quickly, wringing her hands. She was astute enough to notice the doctor’s bad mood by now, and the tension building between the two was swiftly approaching something palpable. “But I couldn’t make any sense of it. Is that German?”

“No, it’s not. It’s code to keep prying eyes like yours off my work.” The doctor hissed back, inspecting the markings. He had taken some from the sign language he’d used in his childhood, but most of them were simply nonsensical symbols.

“Oh.” Lytle shifted uncomfortably in the thick silence that followed. Gaster largely ignored her, choosing to focus on a new spell. After all, he had to have a new one prepared by Wednesday, and he hadn’t even began constructing a concept to make into a spell. He could make something simple, but he actually wanted to work with blue magic so maybe-

“Can you teach me it?”

Gaster glanced sidelong at the healer. Her head was bowed, the only thing visible to Gaster her freckled nose. “You want me to teach you my code.” He said, voice slipping back into its normal monotone. Oh well, the last bits of the good morning had been nice while they lasted, but reality always came crashing back.

“W-well...” Lytle said, wincing slightly. Gaster swore. “It doesn’t have to be your code.” She said, looking up at him, her eyes pleading. “Maybe just some magic, or that weird sign language I sometimes see you doing. You know,” She sloppily imitated a motion he unconsciously made in public frequently, the one for _no_ , “I’d like to learn.” She finished, voice a bit fiercer, more passionate.

Gaster narrowed his eyes at her, but the woman held his gaze evenly. “Why?”

Lytle pursed her lips in thought, apparently not knowing either. “Doesn’t it get lonely?” She asked after a moment. “Holed up in here with nothing but your magic and your languages? Wouldn’t it be nice to share those with someone?”

“Not particularly,” the doctor answered dryly. “If you want to learn magic, you could always go to the apprentices’ chambers. They have tomes you could read”

“But that not the same.” Lyte persisted stubbornly. “And what about your sign language? Or your code? Where am I going to learn those?”

Gaster arched an eyebrow at her. “You want to learn my code? Alright.” Gaster hastily wrote several lines on his piece of paper. Lytle waited giddily, practically bouncing up and down in excitement. She deflated immediately when he handed her the paper.

“What’s this?” She asked, pinching the page between two fingers and flipping it back around so it was facing the doctor. It was filled with his code.

“A message.” The doctor stated, reaching for a new paper. “You want to learn my code? Deciphering that message should work well enough.”

“You’re not going to help me?” The healer asked indignantly.

“No.”

She was silent for a moment, thoughtfully staring down at the paper in her hand. “Will you teach me sign language?” She asked hopefully.

Gaster sighed. “You’re not going to leave me alone until I agree, are you?” Lytle shook her head, grinning mischievously. The doctor sighed again. “Decode the message.” Gaster finally said gruffly. “You do that and we’ll see about teaching you other subjects of study.”

Lytle squealed in delight, throwing her arms around the doctor. Gaster froze, uncertain what to do, but she was releasing him soon enough, drawing back so he could see her smiling face. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, Gaster! I’m going to figure out your code, just you wait and see.”

“Mhm.” The doctor hummed. “For now, I would suggest focusing your energy on getting Sans back on his feet.”

“Hm?” Lytle was already scanning the page for a place to start. “Oh, I already healed him again. He should wake up by, oh, tomorrow afternoon at the latest. The rest is just waiting for his mind to recover, and I can’t do anything about that.”

Gaster nodded, turning back to his desk and trying to decide upon a spell to work on. He expected to hear the brush of Lytle’s footsteps and a door opening as she left. He did hear her footsteps moving away, but he didn’t hear the door open. He looked over his shoulder when he heard the sound of paper ripping. Lytle had taken to sitting cross-legged on the floor next to Sans cage and had torn a blank corner off the page and set it beside the rest of the paper. “What are you doing?”

She looked up at him, picking up a piece of charcoal she must have swiped off his desk. “What do you mean?”

“I believe you have your own private quarters, Ms.Lytle.” Gaster answered tiredly.

“And?”

“And it would be nice if you stopped acting so childish and went there so that I might focus on my work.”

Lytle smirked. “Come on Gaster, lighten up a little. It’s still pouring cats and dogs out there. Besides, I won’t make any more noise, I promise.” Gaster huffed, but, realizing that he probably couldn’t get her to leave even if he tried to forcibly push her out, went back to his work.

“Thank you, doctor, I won’t let you down!” He could hear the smile in her voice.

Despite himself, he smiled too. “What happened to not making any more noise?”

“Right, sorry.”

Gaster rolled his eyes and let the conversation drop. He had work to do but at least it had stopped raining.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter ended up pretty long actually. It wasn't going to be nearly this long, but I started writing, and, well, yeah. New chapter! We got some insight into the people who lead the camp, how mages are regarded, and some sprinkles of Gaster's past.  
> You guys should probably know now that I rarely have an original character without a super tragic backstory and Gaster is close enough to one since nobody really knows anything about him. My poor characters...  
> Also, while I'm already writing a note, I may as well add that I have nothing against religion and, in fact, am religious myself. The fact is simply that the Bible says it's wrong to use magic, and so the Catholic church makes the perfect villains for this time period.


	6. Dreams and Promises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHHHH I JUST WROTE THIS CHAPTER IN THE LAST THREE HOURS AND I'M NOT OKAYYYYY  
> Anyways, hope you enjoy!

The heat was what consumed him, suffocated him. Held him back and pushed him forward. As humans approached he cut them down. As groups attempted to collapse on him, he grabbed them in blue magic and crushed them into each other, their armor crumpling like paper and bones snapping like twigs. The other monsters in his unit stayed out of his way, a wise choice all considering. He must have been terrifying when he got like this. His soul thudded in his skull as he pushed it harder and harder, seeking every ounce of power he could squeeze from it. His arms ached from the constant jarring of metal on metal and metal on flesh. Sweat slipped down his skull and pooled in the bottom of his sockets; it did little, however, to hinder his sight as he had no eyes.

The heat was what got to him though. The heat of battle. It was horrible yet... thrilling.

Sans slammed to a stop suddenly. This wasn’t right. He- this battle. He had already lived this. He recognized some of the faces of those he had killed. His stomach churned with the thought. He knew this field, these enemies, this scenario. This is where he made that one stupid decision. This was where he was sent to hell.

Sans looked around, but the battle roared on. It certainly seemed real enough. He could smell the metallic odor of blood, the tangy stench of sweat. The scent of despair and death. He could make out faces plainly, human and monsters alike. Several of them he didn’t even recognize in the slightest. It all seemed so real. But... it couldn’t be.

Could it?

A horrible booming sound snapped him out of his thoughts. He recognized that sound. It was what had drawn him to his fate. He summoned a wave of spiked bones, sweeping them across the field in front of him. The humans caught in the way of the attack screamed as they were hit, the familiar shattering sound of souls breaking filling the air. Sans raced past the destruction he wrought, scrambling up the face of the hill.

Once he reached the top, he stopped, surveying the valley beneath him. The sight that greeted him was all too real. The grass was sprinkled with blood and dust, and human bodies littered the ground. At the end of the valley stood a lone human- a mage judging by his robes of royal purple. Sans snapped his attention to the other end of the valley where another wave of monsters were charging forward, a vicious battle cry ripping out of their throats. The human didn’t even blink an eye at them. In fact, he seemed almost bored. With a dismissive wave of his hand, a giant black thundercloud gathered in the valley. The monsters skidded to a halt, but it was too late. With another skull-splitting boom, a jagged bolt of lightning arced down, hitting the group squarely in the center. The mage directed the magic with a lazy finger, moving it around as monsters desperately struggled forward in an attempt to stop the human. They never stood a chance.

It was the first time Sans had ever seen a mage. They were rare among humans, since as any monster knew humans had stronger magic, but were generally born without any at their disposal. Sans could feel it even from this distance, the strength of the human’s soul and the oppressiveness of his magic. This was it. He knew this was where he had failed the first time around. After seeing his fellow monsters disposed of so disrespectfully, Sans had gone into a blind rage. The mage had merely glanced at him and snapped his fingers. The next thing that Sans would know was the ceiling of a wooden cage.

He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

Sans squeezed his sockets shut, turned, and ran. There wasn’t a way for him to win this battle. His blue magic couldn’t reach so far, and his bone attacks would have to cover too much distance for the human to not be able to dodge them. Now that he thought about it clearly, he saw that simple truth. Still, it tore him up to turn tail and run. But his was not a soul of Bravery, he could not be expected to throw his life away a second time based on principle. That would get him nowhere but dead.

The thought didn’t make him feel any better.

Sans pushed any approaching humans back with his blue magic, all the while shouting, “Retreat! Retreat!”

Once he was within earshot of other monsters, they looked up at him. He wasn’t their commander, they didn’t have to follow his orders and it looked like they weren’t about to. Luckily, he knew the commander of his unit. And luckily she quite liked him.

He spotted her just as she ran over a dozen humans through with a precise bone attack. She wore a full suit of armor minus the helmet; she said it obstructed her view and besides, she liked it when humans saw her face before they died. Liked the utter despair seared into their expression as they realized they were killed by a _monster_. The armor was stained with splatters of crimson and it looked like it had suffered a savage blow to the chest.

At his voice, Merriweather, the commander of his unit and his mother, stopped, summoning a complicated wall of interlocking bones in front of her. “For what cause?” She shouted back over the clatter and clash of battle.

“Mage!” Sans shouted back, sprinting up until he stood next to her. She narrowed her sockets, cursing vehemently.

“Retreat!” She shouted, waving her sword in the air. The monsters in her units, and even the ones that weren’t, immediately began falling back, pushing back the humans until they had a good chance to turn and run. Merriweather nodded at Sans and they took off after everyone else, Sans throwing humans back with blue magic and his mother blocking them off with walls of stark white bone. The humans didn’t pursue them for long, stopping the chase as the monsters fled into the woods behind them. They cheered in the valley below, raising their weapons stained with white. The sound made Sans’ soul curdle up in his chest.

Merriweather didn’t stop until the battlefield was completely blocked from view. She slowed down, breathing heavily and whirling toward Sans. For a soul-freezing moment, Sans thought his mother would shout at him, scold him for asking her to call the retreat. She didn’t retreat, it just wasn’t her way.

“That was a wise decision, Sans.” She finally said with a sigh. “We were able to retreat before the mage stormed the battlefield.” _No pun intended, I’m sure._ “Thank you for telling me. We could have lost a lot more monsters.” She sighed bitterly, looking away. “As it is we suffered far too many casualties.” She paused and looked around them at the other monsters limping their way either past them or toward them. “We can’t keep this up much longer. I fought over a dozen humans with enchanted weapons. Where did they get those? And their enchantments are so strong! One of their maces broke right through one of my walls and smashed into my chestplate.” She brushed her phalanges delicately over the dented metal. “How are they doing it? We’re the ones with more plentiful magic, _we’re_ the ones that should be winning dammit!”

Sans grimaced. “I don’t know.”

The corner of Merriweather’s mouth twitched in something like a smirk. “I know you don’t.” She turned to him, a soft smile playing on her lips. “I’m just glad you’re safe.”

Sans woke up.

The doctor’s lab was empty, save for him. The only light came from the jars in their cubbies and the runes encircling his cage. He blinked tiredly, forcing himself into a sitting position. He had no idea how long he had been out, but he did know how uncomfortably hot his chest felt. He rubbed his sternum ruefully before pulling up his shirt to inspect the damages. He blinked down at the upside down heart floating in his ribcage. It was bigger, much bigger than it had been before and with a more bluish hue. He wanted to test out his magic, but with the active runes around his cage he wouldn’t be able to. He certainly didn’t feel any different.

Sans let his shirt drop back down and simply sat there, staring transfixed at the swirling soul matter in their little jars. That dream had felt so vivid, so real. When it had first started, when he knew he was dreaming, he had thought it would be awful. He thought he would be reliving that life-changing moment. He thought he would be aware of what was going to happen and have been unable to change it, a prisoner in a body he could not control. Instead, he had seen the future and he _had_ changed it. He had gone back and fixed his mistakes. He had gone back with his mother and his life, a victory short but still able to return home.

That was so much worse.

For the first time since he got there, Sans wept. He curled up into a tight little ball as the sobs tore their way painfully out. His crying was ugly, loud and hiccupping, his face scrunched up as the hot tears streamed down his face. He did not want this. He wanted to go back, back to that place and that time. Make his dream a reality. He wanted days spent training with his comrades. He wanted bad food and good laughs around a cooking spit after a long day’s work. He wanted to visit his baby brother and father between battles, hidden away in the caves of the Caucasus Mountains. He wanted the freedom to use his magic. He wanted his mom.

The tugging sensation was almost a relief this time. He was closer now. The shorter time he was able to be of use to the doctor, the less information the doctor could glean from him and the less he had to suffer. He didn’t bother to check how low his Hope was now. He just let himself cry while no one was there to watch him do it.

* * *

 

When the door to the lab finally creaked open, Sans didn’t know how much time had passed of him blankly staring at the wall. He flicked his eye lights up, expecting to see the so-called doctor’s face staring back at him impassively. Instead, Lytle poked her head in, looking back and forth. Her eyes met with Sans’ and she smiled gently at him, moving inside and closing the door behind her. He did not return the gesture.

“How are you feeling?” She asked softly, sliding to stand next to his cage door.

Sans didn’t respond, just stared back at her.

“Sans, I can’t help you if you don’t help me.” She said patiently when she saw he wasn’t going to answer her.

“I don’t want the help of a human.” Sans spat. Lytle visibly flinched. “Just leave me to die.”

“No.” Lytle said firmly, balling her hands into fists. “You’re not dying on my watch.” There was a pulling on his soul as she tried to summon it, but Sans stubbornly kept it in his chest. The human huffed, crossing her arms. “Come on Sans, stop being so difficult! I just want to help you!”

Sasn barked a laugh. “A human? Help? Why on earth would you want to do that?”

Lytle grimaced, looking away. “Because all life is precious, not just those of humans. I want to preserve that life.”

Sans felt the mocking smile slip off his face. “You’re really not like _them_ , are you? Like the doctor?”

Lytle glanced up at Sans before sighing. She moved away to drag the stool over so she could sit down. “Gaster... I don’t think Gaster is evil.” Sans snorted. “No, hear me out.” Lytle said, placing her hands in her lap and staring down at them. “I think... people are making him do these things. It’s not because he wants to. That’s what they’re doing to me, at least.”

Sans perked up slightly. “What do you mean?”

Lytle placed a hand on her chest in the approximate area of where her soul was. “I have a soul of green, and that means I can heal. I-I was taken from my parents and was ordered to heal humans to support the war effort. Unless it was for the benefit of humans, I was not to heal any monsters or set foot anywhere near the front lines. If I don’t obey, they’ll kill my family.” When Lytle looked up, there were tears brimming in her eyes. “I have a baby brother now, Sans. Can you imagine? I’ve never even met him, but they told me that if I did anything to even make them think I was a monster sympathizer, they’d kill him.”

Sans felt his soul reach out for her. He didn’t like it, she was a human, after all. But in a way, she was just as trapped as him.

“That’s why,” She continued, taking a deep breath, “that’s why I don’t think Gaster is evil. He may seem like it, but I think they’re holding someone hostage against him like they are my family for me.”

“I can’t imagine Gaster ever loving someone. Or liking someone. Or feeling anything for someone past annoyance when they don’t do as he says.” Sans said dryly, inspecting a dust mote as it floated through the air between them.

“I think he just has some thick walls.” Lytle said, standing. “I’ve heard about how he trained under the Arch-mage, everyone has. I only met him once, when I arrived at this encampment, but I could immediately tell that man is heartless. I can’t imagine having to train under a man like that.” Lytle shuddered before glancing back down at Sans. “But we’re getting off topic. I just want to see your soul. If you don’t want me to help you, then I won’t. I won’t heal you, I just want to see.”

Sans watched the human carefully for several long moments before summoning his soul, letting it drift out so it floated between them. She smiled gently at him, kneeling down to inspect it as it approached her. She stared in surprise. “My, it has gotten much bigger, hasn’t it? Well, that’s not really important. Let’s just see your HP...” She gasped as the numbers blinked into existence. 70/70.

“Well, would you look at that.” Sans said.

“This isn’t funny, Sans!” Lytle snapped suddenly, eyes flashing in anger. “Your max HP has dropped! That- that has to do with your willingness to survive, right? Your desire to live?”

“Hope, actually, but close enough.” Sans answered, closing his sockets. “I don’t see-”

“You don’t see the big deal, right? That’s what you’re going to say?” Sans opened in sockets and was surprised to see Lytle shaking silently in fury. “This is your bloody life Sans! I won’t let you just throw it away!”

“What does it matter?” Sans responded quietly. “I’m just going to die here anyways. There’s no point.” Just as he said it, he felt another ping as his HP dropped to 65.

Lytle gaped at the numbers as they were replaced. “No.” She said, staring Sans in the sockets. “Look at me when I tell you Sans, I won’t let you die here. I’ll- I’ll find a way to save you.”

“Sure you will.” Sans replied, winking at her. There was no enthusiasm in the action, it was just a force of habit. “And I’m sure Gaster isn’t a demon from hell come to drag me down into a pit of eternal, fiery torment.”

Lytle opened her mouth to say something, but the door swung open, cutting her off. Gaster strode inside, deep into some notes. He didn’t notice Lytle until she stood up and cleared her throat. He didn’t look up, just move so he was sitting at his desk. “Ms.Lytle. How can I help you?”

“I was just checking in on Sans.” She replied, clasping her hands in front of her.

“The monster.” Gaster responded, the detached, matter-of-factly way he said it making it sound like he was correcting her.

“Excuse me?”

“Do not refer to him by his name.” Gaster elaborated distractedly as he pulled over the jar on his desk and filled another syringe. Sans watched the doctor with growing trepidation. He couldn’t be about to make Sans go through all that again. Sans pressed himself against the cold, stone wall, his soul racing back into his chest. “It could lead to attachment.”

Lytle held her head up high. “I will continue to call Sans by his name, and there is nothing that you can do to stop me.”

Gaster finally looked up at her. Something brief and indiscernible flashed in his eyes, barely visible through the constant glow of white in his eyes. “Do as you will.” He said after staring at her for a long moment, turning back to his notes. “Just don’t come crying to me when he dies.”

Lytle did not back down. “He’s not going to die. I’m going to find a way to save him.”

Gaster suddenly breathed in sharply. “Careful, Ms.Lytle.” He growled out. “Those are the words of a sympathizer.”

Lytle looked away, biting her lip. “But yesterday-”

“Was yesterday.” Gaster interrupted. “Now is now. Remember what I said at the end of that little discussion?”

Lytle’s face went slack as she thought back. After a moment, she nodded.

“Good. Now while you’re here-”

“I don’t know.”

Gaster stopped, peering down at Sans after the skeleton interrupted him. “What?”

“I don’t know what was at the end of your little discussion. Care to fill me in?” Sans asked, winking at the doctor carelessly.

Gaster narrowed his eyes at the monster. “You impudent little skeleton, I should-”

“What?” Sans challenged him, pushing himself off the floor a little. “Kill me?” Gaster froze, whatever his next words were dying in his mouth. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Gaster shook his head. “Death is the easy part. I can do a lot worse things to you.”

“Not while I’m here.” Lytle said testily, entering the conversation again. Gaster threw her the dirtiest look his general lack of facial expressions would allow. “Sans deserves better.”

Gaster hissed out an angry breath, curling his hands into tight fists. “You two make things so difficult.” The doctor hissed. “Why can’t you two just let me do my job?”

They both shrugged at the same time. Lytle grinned mischievously at the doctor. “That would be too easy, Gaster. Obviously.”

Gaster turned away with a sigh. “Well, since your services are not required at the moment, you may leave, Ms.Lytle.”

“I could,” She conceded, the grin never leaving her face. She pulled out a carefully folded piece of paper out of the leather pouch at her side, “Or I could stay here and work on this little project.”

Gaster was silent, but his fingers drummed on his desk for several moments while he thought. “Fine, but stay out of the way.” The statement lacked any maliciousness and just sounded tired.

Lytle’s grin became more genuine. “Yessir!” She situated herself in the corner across from Sans, unfolding the paper gently. Sans stared at the curious symbols scrawled on it.

“Alright, down to business.” Gaster muttered a word and the backfire magic created by the runes around Sans’ cage dissipated. Sans took a deep breath as the blanket covering his soul was whipped away, relishing in the freedom. Gaster held out a small stone. Sans blinked at the action. He hadn’t notice the doctor carrying one when he walked in, nor had there been one on his desk. He hadn’t even seen him reach into one of his many pockets of his robes and pull it out. “Lift this with your blue magic and tell me how it feels..”

Sans thought about it for a moment. He figured that if he was going to try out his magic, he might as well go all in. He grabbed the doctor in blue magic before the man could react, slamming him into the ceiling.

There was three gasps following the action. There was Gaster’s gasp of pain as a sickening crack emitted from his body. There was Lytle’s gasp as she witnessed the act. Then there was Sans’ gasp of shock. Before, the magic in his soul had been like a lake. Every time he used it, it was like he was taking a bucket and scooping some of it out. Now, it was like the magic in his soul was an _ocean_ and he was trying to empty it with a teaspoon. The strength of his magic was nothing less, it actually seemed stronger, though Sans couldn’t tell just from the one spell. There was simply so much more magic in his soul it felt like he could never run out. Sans barked out an insane laugh and went to crush the doctor against the ceiling with his magic.

He pushed. Nothing happened. Gaster remained very much alive and affixed to the ceiling.

The doctor looked at him, expression frighteningly blank and eyes glowing blue. Slowly, despite Sans’ efforts to keep him there, the doctor slowly came down from the ceiling. He raised one shaking finger and directed it at the skeleton. “Is this how you want to do this?”

Sans grunted, drawing on more of the magic from that ocean. Desperately trying to stop the doctor. His blue magic should be stronger than the human’s. He was the one with the blue soul after all, and he had so much more magic now. Try as he may though, the Doctor of Death remained standing, pointing at the skeleton. His eyes flared with blue magic and suddenly the tables had turned. Sans was thrust into the air, smacking into the ceiling above. He distantly heard Lytle gasp again through the ringing in his skull. The pressure increased even as he fought against it. It felt like the doctor was actively trying to crush him into dust against this ceiling. There was a horrible snap and Sans let out a cry as he felt his ribs begin to crack under the pressure.

“Gaster stop!”

Sans fell back to the ground, landing hard on his chest. He groaned, gripping at his ribs as they screamed at him angrily. He cracked open a socket at Gaster as the human stumbled back, the blue in his eyes blinking out of existence and replaced with the usual white. Lytle had leapt up and was gripping the other human’s outstretched arm. She looked between the human and the monster indecisively before leading Gaster over to his chair. “Wait here. Sans suffered more damage, I’m going to see to him first.” Gaster blinked at her blankly. Sans noted with a measure of satisfaction that the human gripped the arms of his chair so hard his knuckles turned white. His eyes were also considerably dimmer than they had been before. Sans wondered just how much magic the human had expended.

Lytle approached slowly, like Sans was a wild animal that might attack her. “Sans? I’m going to heal your bones, okay? Several of them have cracks in them.” She knelt down next to him, eyes flickering into a bright green as her cooling green magic washed over his body. He sighed in contentment as she worked her magic, healing the cracks in his ribs and one he hadn’t noticed on his skull. She patted him on the arm once she was finished. The moment she stepped out of the cage, the door was slammed shut and locked with blue magic, and the runes around it glowed white again, throwing a dampener on the monster’s soul.

Lytle laid her hand gently on the doctor’s arm just as the renewed blue in his eyes faded away. The doctor closed his eyes exhaustedly as she healed him. She looked between the two of them several times, looking like she wanted to say something. Finally, she burst out, “Why do you two have to fight?!”

“We are enemies, Ms.Lytle.” Gaster answered without opening his eyes. He actually sounded... exhausted. For some reason, that surprised Sans.

“Why? Why can’t we all just get along? Why do you have to hurt each other?” Lytle demanded, eyes filling with angry tears.

“Because that is what the world demands of us.”

Lytle was silent as she finished healing the doctor. When she was done, she stomped over to stand in front of him. He cracked an eye open just in time to see her slap him. Hard.

In the quiet save for the patter of rain from outside, nobody moved. Then, Sans barked out laughing. Lytle whirled around, her expression dark. “I would hit you too, if I could reach you, Sans. Don’t think this is all Gaster’s fault.”

Sans abruptly cut off his laughter.

Lytle whirled back to Gaster as the doctor stared up at her in shock. She jabbed him in the chest with her pointer finger. “Promise me you won’t hurt each other anymore.” She glanced back at Sans. “That goes for you too.”

Sans gaped at her. He had been taken against his will to become a subject of experimentation, and she wanted him to play nice? That wasn’t how this worked. He didn’t care what the doctor’s reasons were for why he was doing what he was doing, it wasn’t worth it. It wasn’t worth the countless of lives his horrid magic had taken. It wasn’t worth all the suffering he had caused all the monsters he researched and experimented on. It wasn’t worth it. “I can’t promise that.”

Lytle shot another glare at him, but her expression softened a moment later as she took in the skeleton. “Sans-”

“I promise.”

Lytle froze and turned back to Gaster. “W-what?”

Gaster wasn’t looking at her. “I promise not to hurt him anymore so long as he does not attack me. Besides, he’s already gone through basically the only painful experiment I must put him through. Beyond this point is mostly observation and expansion.”

Lytle stared at the doctor, obviously not expecting the response. “Okay then.” She said dumbly a moment later. She went back to Sans. “Sans?”

The skeleton stared at the two humans. This- this wasn’t fair. Damn Lytle with her soul of Kindness. She was just looking at him so _pleadingly._ How could he say no to her? She was the one that had always shown him kindness, even after he blatantly attacked another human. She wanted to help humans and monsters, she cherished all life. How could Sans deny her?

He sighed resignedly. “I promise.”

Lytle smiled even as the other two in the room glared at each other. “Thank you both.”

“Anything for you, Juliet.” Gaster replied immediately. Lytle stiffened. Gaster suddenly seemed to realize what he said. “I-I mean-”

“Don’t say anything Gaster.” Lytle said with a little smirk. “You’ll just ruin it.”

As much as Sans hated Gaster, he had to admit, if Lytle saw something good in him, maybe he could too. After all, what other choice did he have?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah, I was having a really difficult time with this chapter. I had something in mind for it, but that idea seriously did not want to get written and I couldn't make it. So I deleted everything I had written and sat down for three and a half hours straight to write this thing. I don't regret it now, but I will when I have to get up early tomorrow morning


	7. Evil Is Such A Broad Term

The rain persisted.

Sans guessed he should at least be happy the building didn’t have any cracks for water to sneak into, even if it was still cold and miserable. The doctor obviously didn’t care enough to give him another blanket. In fact, the doctor interacted with the monster as minimal as possible. The only time he had even acknowledged Sans existence was when he gave him food three times a day. If Sans said something to him, he was pointedly ignored. If Lytle said something regarding Sans, he would glance at her, but otherwise act as if he hadn’t heard. Apparently, he was not happy about the promise he had made. The feeling was mutual.

Sans would have been bored out of his mind if it wasn’t for Lytle. Sans wasn’t sure what she did before he had arrived, but it must not have been very important. She now spent the whole day in Gaster’s lab, much to the doctor’s ire. She chatted with Sans all while attempting to break the man’s code. She was actually making decent progress, or so she said. Sans wasn’t sure but he nodded and smiled all the same. They talked of small things, whatever came to mind really. Magic and science were more or less forbidden topics, but other than that they spoke freely. If Lytle began to enter topics that were too liberal, Gaster would sometimes throw her a warning glance. Only sometimes though, much to Sans’ confusion. But if he asked about it he was, of course, ignored.

Today was Wednesday. Or at least, Sans thought it was Wednesday. He hadn’t really been keeping track. He blinked his sockets open and stretched his stiff joints. He sat up with a yawn and gave the lab a skimming glance. The empty lab. Sans frowned at the novelty of such a thing. The doctor never seemed to sleep, or eat come to think of it, so Sans had woke to the man still hunched over his desk the past three mornings. There had been the telltale sound of the scratch of charcoal against parchment, and, on one morning, he had even been muttering softly and making broad, frantic signs to himself. Sans had no idea what he had been saying, the only words he managed to catch was what he was assumed to be German. But today, it was silent. Today, it was empty. And he was finally in private.

Sans couldn’t do much with his magic with the runes around the cage, but the doctor hadn’t yet accommodated for the new bounty of magic in his soul. He didn’t know much about runes, monsters didn’t need them after all, but he did have a rudimentary knowledge. His mother had insisted he know a bit as it made disabling traps easier. Sans had had ample time over the last seventy-two hours to study the runes around his cage. He didn’t recognize most of them in any respect, but he did know the holding rune, the rune that kept the spell maintained. It was the designed to handle only so much magic. Sans never would have been able to short-out the rune before but now...

Sans cracked his knuckles, rolled his neck, and stood up. He screwed his sockets and concentrated. He couldn’t build up to a powerful spell or the runes would detect the magic and backlash. He had to just release a short and potent burst of magic instantaneously. Of course, if it wasn’t enough the runes would render him just short of a white stain on the wall. If it was too much, Sans might seriously damage his soul with the sudden lack of magic. Sans told himself not to think of that. He wasn’t sure how effective that was.

 _Okay._ He thought, sucking in a deep breath and letting it out. _Just like letting out a big yawn. One you didn’t know was coming. Or-or a sneeze. Yes, that’s it. A sudden, painful sneeze, but not bad enough where you blow out your soul. Just a big sneeze._ He took another deep breath. And let go.

There was a slight popping sound and a bright flash of white light. The light was from his aimless use of magic. The pop was from the corner of the cage where the holding rune was as it flashed and fizzled out of existence. The rest of the runes stayed lit for a moment, as if not aware that the keystone rune was gone before they slowly dimmed to just powerless markings on the floor. The blanket on Sans’ soul was suddenly whisked away.

A grin inched its across the skeleton’s skull. He’d done it. He let out a choked laugh. He’d done it! He was free. He eyed the locked cell door. Well, mostly. But that was easily remedied. He stood up, only to fall right back over. _Right. Of course._ He had just expended a bunch of magic. He would need to let himself rest for a moment. With a sigh he pushed himself up into a sitting position. He snapped his fingers, and obediently, the lock sprung open. He tapped his phalange against the stone floor, soul filling with fear. What would he do once he was outside? He had a lot of magic still at his disposable so he doubted getting out of the camp would be _too_ much trouble. But he had know idea where he was inside the human territory other than somewhere in Germany. He knew that monsters were still fighting in southern Italy, if he could just find a way _there-_

Oh God. What if he ran into Gaster on his way out? If their last magic contest was anything to go by, he’d be smushed like a bug. He gripped his collarbone as panic swelled up inside his soul. What would he do if he encountered any high mage? There were several of them, and if he was going somewhere where battles were still going strong, there was a good chance a high mage would be heading the same way. Oh God they wouldn’t- they wouldn’t send _Gaster_ after him, would they? He was _dead_ if-

 _No!_ Sans thought, smacking himself. _I can’t think like that. I’m definitely dead if I stay here, I’m most likely dead if I leave. I have to take that chance._ His mind made up, Sans stumbled to his feet and threw the cage door open. He took a deep breath. _No turning back._ He stepped outside the cell.

The door slammed open. “Gassstttterrrrrrr!” Lytle called as sunlight flooded through the doorway, outlining her thin frame. She stopped and blinked at Sans. “Um,” Lytle furrowed her brow as she processed what was in front of her, “should I ask where Gaster is first, or where you’re going first?”

“Uh, I-I, er-” Sans took a deep breath and organized his thoughts, “I don’t know where Gaster is. And I’m leaving.”

Lytle gasped. “You’re going to try to escape?” Sans nodded. “But- but you can’t!”

Sans scowled at the healer. “Why not?”

Lytle blinked at the ferocity in his voice. “Oh, don’t get the wrong idea Sans, I want you to escape probably as much as you do. It’s just, the Arch-mage came back this morning.”

Sans felt cold dread grip his soul. “Do you think he would care enough to stop me?”

“Are you kidding?” Lytle said incredulously. “Sans, that man is the most cruel person I’ve ever met. He’d probably torture you slowly until you died, if Gaster would let him. He might still do that, even with Gaster’s protection! That man answers to no one but God, and even then I’m not too sure. He’d come after you in a heartbeat, no doubt about it.” Lytle shook her head. “No, I think it’s best if you bide your time.”

“And if I should die in that time?” Sans asked.

Lytle shook her head again, vigorously this time. “I won’t let that happen. I’d die before I saw you perish. We’ll come up with a way for you to escape, that’s my promise to you. You promise to obey Gaster and not fight with him, I promise to get you out. Okay?”

Sans sighed but nodded. “Alright.” He glanced back at his cage. “Um, how should I explain that?”

Lytle pursed her lips as she thought. “I’ll think of something. Now go back in before Gaster comes back.”

Sans obediently shuffled back into his cell, and Lytle shut the door behind him. She tapped the lock and Sans used his magic to lock it again. She smiled at him as she took a seat on her stool. The were quiet for several moments as Sans tried to think of something to say. Finally, he asked her about something that had been bothering him for the last few days, “Lytle, why do you put up with Gaster?”

She cocked her head at the skeleton. “Uh, what do you mean?”

“Gaster is so-” Sans paused as he thought of a way to describe the man. He drew himself up, letting his face go completely slack and his voice lose all color. “Hurry up and quiet down. I have work to do. No, I don’t want to be bothered by you petty notions of sleep and food.” Sans shrugged, letting himself slouch back over and his voice go back to normal. “You know, why do you put up with someone like that? He gave you an opportunity to leave, and yet you're still here.”

Lytle looked down at her hands. When she spoke, her voice was quiet, almost a whisper. “I already told you. Gaster isn’t evil. He doesn’t want to do this, he just doesn’t have a choice. He’s... he’s all alone, Sans.” Lytle whispered hoarsely. “Can you imagine that? Surrounded by people, yet they might as well not know you exist. Doing their dirty work because they’re forcing you to, and there is no one to save you, no one to empathize with you, no one that cares. Can you imagine how alone Gaster must feel? How abandoned?” Lytle fell silent for a moment before she shook her head. “I- he won’t be alone as long as I’m around, alright? That’s why I put up with him. He’s rough around the edges, but that’s only because he doesn’t get out much. He is a good person, and even if he treats me poorly I will be here for that good person.”

Sans was quiet. A part of him believed Lytle. The sane, monster part of him that wasn’t tainted by his hatred for humans. But that part was small compared to the part of him that denied any and every thought that Gaster was anything more than a heartless scientist. The implications of him being something more was worse than him being what Sans saw him as now. But looking at Lytle, Sans knew she didn’t share the same thoughts.

“Do what you want.” Sans growled out. “But don’t expect me to do the same.”

Lytle grunted. “Right, well, I didn’t really expect anything more.” She pursed her lips. “So... I guess we just wait for Gaster, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Sans coughed into his hand as awkward silence fell between the two. Lytle sat, twiddling her thumbs and staring at the floor. “Do you... have a deck of cards?”

* * *

Gaster... wasn’t sure what he was looking at.

Well, he _knew_ what he was looking at, but he wasn’t able to comprehend it. He couldn’t remember exactly how he got here either, or what he was doing. The sky was bright blue overhead, and the weather was warm for autumn. At least, he thought it was autumn, that was the last season he remembered it being, but for some reason he thought it might be spring. All he knew is that he was sitting on a stump on hill, watching the human army in the distance go about their business. For some reason, Gaster felt the humans were uncomfortably close. Which was strange considering he was part of the human army. That’s what he remembered last anyways...

He watched them work with a growing sense of dread. They shouted to each other as they gathered and sharpened weapons and ran around doing other miscellaneous chores. Preparing for battle, Gaster knew, though he wasn’t sure how he knew that.

Where- where was he? What was he doing here? He lightly touched his chest as a sharp pang passed through it. He blinked at the place where he unconsciously touched his chest. Right above his soul...

What the hell was going on?

He sat on his stump, too bewildered to move. He wasn’t in the camp anymore, for all he knew he might not even be in Germany anymore, though that thought was absurd. Why wouldn’t he still be in Germany? Unless he was heading closer to the front lines... Another pain passed through his chest and he rubbed the spot ruefully. He checked his soul quickly, making sure his HP hadn’t dropped any. It hadn’t, but the sensation was unnervingly similar.

His soul felt odd. He hadn’t been able to really tell when it was stowed away in his chest, but now that it was summoned it could feel it clearly. Not that he was sure what he was feeling. It was almost like it was trying to pull itself apart. He frantically checked his HP again, but his soul was fine. Nothing was out of place. So why did it feel like an effort to keep his soul in one piece?

He put his soul back into his chest with a slight frown, desperately trying to understand what was going on. He scowled at the ground, considering what his next move should be.

He looked up at the harsh shouts coming from farther away. He squinted against the midday sun until he was able to make sense of the shadowy figures across from him. It was a monster, Gaster couldn’t tell exactly what kind, but his soul definitely had the distinct buzz of a monster. Three humans chased him, shouting in what Gaster thought was Russian. The monster glanced over his shoulder, so when its foot connected with a stone lodged in the ground, it had no one to blame but itself.

Gaster watched, silently as always, as the humans caught up to the monster. From the distance he was at, he couldn’t tell if they were smiling or not, but knowing humans they probably were. He watched on as they formed a triangle around the prone form of the fallen monster. He watched as they kicked it, as they cut its arms and legs and tore its clothing. He watched even as his soul twisted in his chest, that pulling sensation coming back and stronger than ever.

Yet, he had no choice. It was either sit and watch, or stand and die. If it was just his life, Gaster would have given up long ago. But it wasn’t just his life and he couldn’t be that selfish. So he sat and watched as he always did and hated himself as he did. He waited until the men were just standing around a pile of dust, laughing and kicking it up into the air.

Gaster wondered what the monster had done to them. Had it tried to sneak up on them? Had it just been out gathering supplies and strayed too close to a human camp? Had it been a refugee forging a path to safety? Gaster didn’t know and that lack of knowledge bothered him. But no matter who that monster had been, it hadn’t deserved a death like that.

 _This wasn’t justice_.

Gaster bolted upright, the last inklings of sleep erased from his mind. His head swivelled around as he tried to gather his bearings. This- this was his quarters. He ran a hand over his face as he remembered. Last night after Lytle had left for the night and Sans was sleeping in his cell, Gaster had finished the spell he was working on. Since everyone else thought it so necessary and he didn’t feel like working on another spell, Gaster decided to try sleeping. It had taken a few hours of coaxing the magic in his soul from a frantic buzz to an idle hum, but he had actually fallen asleep.

Not that it helped. Gaster didn’t need sleep. Or his body didn’t at least. As for his mind, sleep might help if he got enough of it, but probably not. He rubbed his eyes groggily, rubbing a phantom pain in his chest. He couldn’t remember the last time he had fallen into a deep enough sleep to dream, not that he remembered what his dream had been about. Still, he knew he had dreamt, which was likely as exciting as remembering what it had been about. Considering it had made him wake up in a cold sweat, maybe it was better if he didn’t recall it.

His soul cracked. Gaster gasped at the snapping sensation of his spell forcibly being broken. He clutched at his chest until the pain slowly passed away, leaving a small void in his chest. He hissed, searching in his soul for which of his spells had been broken.

The magic cancelling spell around Sans’ cage.

Gaster didn’t spare it a second thought. He scrambled out of creaky, underused bed, threw on his robes, and flew out the door.

It wasn’t so much that Sans had gotten out. Gaster could intimidate most common soldiers into silence. It was a poor way to make friends, true, but it worked well enough for his purposes. He could explain away to his higher ups, and they’d probably send him off with a slap on the wrists and a skeleton monster still in tow. It was the soul presence that he felt entering the camp. It was the buzz of a soul almost as familiar as his own, one that cursed his memories and haunted his dreams.

The Arch-mage had returned. And if he found out that Sans had broken the enchantment around his cell, he was dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhhhhhh, I need to apologize. I know I said I didn’t plan on keeping a schedule for this story, but goddamn, this chapter just took so long I need to say sorry. This is a transition chapter mostly to get set up for the next chapter and introduce some points for the entire story actually. And it did not want to get written. I rewrote this chapter FOUR TIMES. I still don’t really like how it turned out. It’s also shorter than I would like it to be, but at this point I just want to get something out there to let you guys know yes, I am still working on this story. I just want this story to be good, even with my rudimentary writing skills. Anyways, hopefully next chapter will be exponentially better and take shorter to write.  
> Also, I want to draw attention to Gaster’s dream and Sans’ dream. This story will be roughly broken up into three parts, but I’m introducing major, over-arching plot now. If you guys really thought about it, I’m sure you’d be able to call my end game for this story. I won’t say anymore for now :P


	8. I Hate Him (not that I should take it out on you)

When Gaster flung the door open, he found Lytle and Sans in the middle of a game of dominoes. They jumped as the door banged against the wall, Sans’ expression turning to one of mild panic while Lytle’s turned to one of defiance. Lytle sprang to her feet, opening her mouth to say something. Gaster beat her to it.

“I don't care for explanations. Sans,” the monster shrank back slightly as the doctor snapped his name before remembering himself and drawing himself up to meet the doctor's glare. Gaster wanted to be livid, but all he was was tired. The best he could manage was a growl of, “Don't do this again. Lord knows I have enough to worry about as it is.”

“Gaster-” Lytle began, but he cut her off with a wave of his hand.

“I truly don't care for explanations, Lytle.” He turned to the corner of the cell where his rune had been forcibly expelled from the stone it had been etched into. He focused his magic, picking a spell from the archive in his mind that would work. He hurriedly rewrote the rune, his spell an invisible knife that cut into the stone. Lytle watched in awe as Gaster finished the rune and reactivated the spell. The runes glowed their soft white again, and Sans grunted as he felt the weight of the magic settle once more on his soul.

Gaster let out the tiniest relieved sigh, but his work wasn't over yet. He grabbed the dominoes with blue magic, quickly gathering them up and stashing them into a drawer in his desk with enough room for them.

“Hey!” Lytle exclaimed, curling her hands into loose fists. “You could have just given them back to me if they were so inconveniencing.”

 _I can't deal with this today._ “Not now, Lytle.” Gaster snapped. He was all too aware of how she cringed back at his seething frustration. Gaster forced himself to calm down. Lytle wasn't the object of his anger, he shouldn't take it out on her. She already feared him as it was, he didn't need her terrified of him. Still, he couldn't bring himself to care enough to apologize. Not today.

“Sorry.” She muttered, crossing her arms and looking away. Gaster took a deep breath, trying to quell the swarm of anxious magic gathering in his soul.

“It's okay.” Gaster replied curtly. “I'll return your effects shortly, just-”

Gaster stopped, tensing as he heard a brisk knock at the door. He knew that the Arch-mage was close, but he hadn't been paying keen attention to just how close. Lytle threw a confused glance at Gaster, but the man just shook his head.

“Just sit down and don't say anything.” The doctor ordered, motioning to her stool. Lytle frowned and looked like she wanted to say something but evidently remembered their previous exchange, for she did as ordered.

Gaster quickly glanced at Sans. The skeleton monster could sense the soul of the human on the other side of the door and had his brow furrowed in concern. He caught Gaster’s look and arched a brow bone.

“Don’t say or do anything.” Gaster said, looking at Sans, then Lytle meaningfully. Sans tensed and nodded. Lytle appeared even more confused at the repetition, but nodded slowly anyway.

Gaster sighed, running a hand over his face. “Just... let me handle this.” Without another word, the doctor opened the door.

The Arch-mage was an aging man in his forties with black hair bleeding to gray at his temples and crows feet at the corners of his eyes from years of peering down his nose at people. His eyes, like Gaster’s, glowed white from the sheer amount of magic in his soul. Even though Gaster was taller than his former mentor and had been for a long time, he still felt small in his presence. Vulnerable. Especially when he gave Gaster that condescending, sweeping glance, Gaster still felt like a tiny nine-year-old boy, lost and alone.

Nothing had changed. And Gaster still hated himself for letting this man make him feel that way.

He didn't say anything to Gaster, just strode past him and into the doctor's lab. His eyes skimmed the room, his usual expression of distaste not shifting in the slightest. With a flare of his purple robes, the Arch-mage turned to Gaster as the doctor shut the door.  

“I've come for your newest spell.” The Arch-mage said without preamble. His voice was quiet, yet had an edge to it that commanded attention.

Gaster moved to comply, going to his desk and plucking the neat paper that had the spell described in detail. He looked it over once, confirming that everything was right before turning to hand the paper over.

“You!” Sans snarled, lunging forward to grip the bars of his cell. “You’re the reason I’m here, you-you-!”

“Well look at that, the thing can talk.” The Arch-mage drawled, looking down at the skeleton held back by his cage. Gaster could have kicked him, but at least he was speaking in monster. Whether it was from a conscious decision or just outrage bringing him back to his roots, Gaster was just relieved the skeleton didn’t say anything the Arch-mage understood. “Do you just let it do this, Gaster? I imagine that would be distracting.”

Gaster shrugged. “It’s not very talkative, and I can just tune it out.”

“I see.” The Arch-mage replied. He cocked his head at the monster before he waved his hand dismissively, turning back to Gaster. His eyes flashed blue briefly as he flung the monster into the ground, a sharp crack resounding through the room as the skeleton’s jaw collided with the floor. Sans gave a muffled cry, before curling up and futilely shielding his jaw from further harm with his hands. The Arch-mage didn’t bat an eye, as callous as ever, Gaster supposed. He kept his face carefully blank, but Lytle was having none of it.

“Why would you do that?!” She exclaimed, springing to her feet. “What did he-”

“I’m sorry,” the Arch-mage interrupted, a slight frown tugging at his mouth, “Who are you? You must excuse me, I don’t usually mix with green-souled, Irish _trash._ ” He flicked a look at Gaster. “I thought I taught you better than this, Gaster.”

Lytle turned as red as a tomato, opening her mouth to utter some indignant response. But Gaster was not about to risk it. “She’s the healer that’s assisting me, that’s all. Now, the spell.”

“So curt.” The Arch-mage said with a tsk. “If I knew any better, I’d say you were trying to get rid of me. Ah, well, I’ll take my leave then.” The Arch-mage took the paper from Gaster’s hands, scanning it briefly. He stopped, looking up at Gaster again. “You should know, Gaster, that the eyes are the window to the soul.” The Arch-mage cocked his head at his former student. “And might I say, yours give away quite a bit. I would be careful how much you let your emotions influence the magic in your soul. I might start to get the wrong idea, and then where were you be?” The man narrowed his eyes. “I saw how your eyes flashed when I spoke to your whore. And I saw how they glowed when I hurt the monster.”

“Did you just-” Lytle began, but the Arch-mage barreled on as if she hadn’t spoken.

“All I’m saying is to watch your step.” The Arch-mage concluded with a tiny shrug. “There are several others watching even closer.”

Gaster’s crumbling sense of self-worth demanded that he speak against his old teacher and still present tormentor, but he had ignored demands of his soul and mind in the past. This time was no different. He simply swallowed his pride, both metaphorically and physically, bowing his head. The Arch-mage regarded him coldly for a moment before making a small sound of disgust and finally leaving. The door shut behind him with a soft click.

Gaster sighed, all the tension leaving his body, rendering him exhausted. He wanted nothing more than to just curl up in bed and... do what? His soul still buzzed with frantic magic from all the excitement. He wouldn’t be able to sleep. But maybe he could just curl up and lie there and when he got up again he would feel better-

“I don’t know what hurt more.” Lytle’s voice was uncharacteristically quiet. Gaster looked over his shoulder at her in concern. “The fact that he called me a whore to my face or that- that you said I _was just your healer_ .” She bit off the last words as if they were hot coals on her tongue. She stared hard into Gaster’s eyes, her own burning with anger. “I thought I was more than that, Gaster. I thought I was your _friend._ ” She shook her head, tearing her gaze away from him and looking at the floor. “But I guess I’m just your healer, huh?” She knelt down next to Sans’ cell. The skeleton immediately crawled over to her soothing hands, the fracture in his jaw disappearing as if it had never existed. The monster sighed in relief, smiling up at her. Lytle didn’t even seem to notice, she was already glowering at Gaster again. “Maybe you’re alone just because you like to be alone.” Gaster was too shocked at the healer’s quiet fury to respond, he just blinked in surprise. She sighed again, storming out of the room with a mutter of, “I don’t even know why I bother.”

The door slammed behind her so hard the jars rattled in their cubbies. Gaster watched the door Lytle had disappeared behind as if she might walk back in and say she was just joking, she wasn’t mad. But of course, that didn’t happen. Gaster groaned, pinching his nose as he sat back in his chair. Maybe... maybe it would be easier if it went this way. The thought of having to interact with someone on a daily basis that wasn’t a terrified or hateful monster made his skin crawl. Besides, he always messed up and insulted others one way or another. Maybe it would be better this way. No distractions, no one to make him question his work more than he already did, no risk.

But, Gaster actually found himself remorseful. He didn’t mean to upset Lytle, he was just trying to get the Arch-mage to leave. He actually liked the girl, no matter how risky her speech was or how annoying she could be. But he had messed up once again. Could they reconcile? Gaster had no idea how to even go about mending things, maybe he could apologize, but she had seemed so absolutely livid. Would an apology really be enough? Probably not. Then what should he do? He didn’t know her well enough to be able to buy her anything. Maybe he could get her some flowers, that would be a nice making up gift. But then he didn’t know what kind she liked...

He sighed, already feeling a headache coming on. Still, it was his choice to care about Lytle and her feelings, even though it felt more like an obligation. He decided it would probably be better to let her cool off for a little while, then he could try... talking to her? He’d probably make it worse, but the outcome would be a return to the normal if he did. More empty labs and lonely days, but nothing out of his comfort zone at least.

“Real smooth, doc.”

“Excuse me?” The doctor snapped at the skeleton.

“I’m just saying you’re smooth.” The monster said, face completely serious. “Real good with the ladies.”

“Be quiet. I don’t need your sarcasm.” Gaster hissed, taking out a new piece of paper. He would need to start on a new spell for next week, and luckily he already had some ideas in mind.

“You also didn’t need an explanation, or, apparently, a friend.” Gaster glared at Sans, but the skeleton just shrugged. “Hey, I’m just saying.”

“And what would you have me do?” Gaster gritted out. “Let her run her mouth until the Arch-mage decided to kill her?”

Sans frowned. “He... he would kill her? Just for talking too much?”

Gaster turned back to his desk, squeezing his eyes shut. “He’s done so before for lesser transgressions. The Arch-mage is a strict and unforgiving man. It’s how a mage has lived so long.” The last sentence came out more bitter than intended, but Sans didn’t seem to notice.

Sans was silent for a moment, and Gaster immediately regretted speaking to the monster again. Talking led to attachment which only made their deaths worse; Gaster _knew_ that. Yet each time he still talked, he still used their names (though rarely out loud), he still tried, and it only made it that much worse.

“I guess you know from experience.” Sans said. Gaster could tell without even looking he did so with the utmost caution.

Gaster didn’t respond, just began to carefully scratch the base for a new rune. He was thinking actually making some enchantments this time. There was so much potential for weapons with blue enchantments. Maybe he would start with something for a mace, make something that makes armor stick to it or-

“So what are you going to do about Lytle?” Sans asked, shifting in his cell.

Gaster sighed, setting down his charcoal. “She’ll be back later, when she has cooled down. I’ll talk to her then, try to mend things.”

“I don’t know.” Sans said thoughtfully. “She seemed pretty upset.”

“Lytle is a very agreeable person.” Gaster said, sketching out another line and examining it. “She’s fiery and doesn’t exactly avoid conflict, but she’ll try to resolve things as quickly as possible.”

“And you know this with all your great people skills, Mr.I-Don’t-Know-When-To-Say-Thank-You.” Gaster could practically hear the smirk on the skeleton. “Look, I agree with giving her some time to wind down, but I don’t know if she’ll be back any time soon. You should probably go after her before she gets herself into trouble.”

Gaster knew Sans was giving him sound advice but still felt a pang of annoyance at someone correcting him. He huffed, erasing the line and drawing a different one. He appraised this one and nodded after a moment.

“Gaster?”

“What do you want? I’m trying to work.” The doctor said, grimacing. After everything that had happened this morning, he just wanted to work. His spells couldn’t threaten, insult, or otherwise aggravate him, unlike all these people.

“Why are you talking to me again all of a sudden?”

Gaster gave a tired sigh. He did not want to deal with this right now. Emotions were messy, memories distracting, and Gaster really just wanted to do something that would distract himself from them. “I don’t know, I acted on a whim. Why do you care?”

“I was just curious.” Sans said. “No need to get all worked up.”

Blissful silence fell over the room, allowing Gaster to focus back on his work, and more importantly, ignore the constricting feeling in his chest. He was halfway through the second rune needed for the enchantment when Sans spoke up yet again. “Hey, I’m hungry.”

“Can’t you wait until lunchtime?” Gaster asked after a moment. He turned away to glower at the monster, his concentration thoroughly broken.

“I’m pretty sure it _is_ lunchtime.” Sans replied, arching a brow bone. “Might have even gone and went.”

“What?!” Gaster stood up and cracked the door open so he could peek outside. The clouds overhead blocked every inch of the sky, but even so it was much too dark out for daytime. Gaster grimaced. He shut the door, his free hand unconsciously half-forming several curse words. He had lost track of time again, and majorly this time too. He sighed, rubbing his temples and gathering his thoughts. “Alright, here.” Gaster opened the door again, forming a green shield that he let the rain fill up. He brought it inside, muttering a word and transforming the water into a brothy chicken soup. He slid the meal into the skeleton’s cell. The monster eyed it suspiciously, but not quite as much as the time Gaster had done the same trick for breakfast that one morning. Whenever that had been... The doctor shook his head to reorganize his thoughts, he didn’t need to be bothered by his increasingly fragmenting memory. “Eat up, I’m going to see if I can find Lytle.” Gaster moved to leave, but stop to add, “I trust I can leave you without you trying to escape again.”

“With that abomination you call Arch-mage freely running around?” Sans mumbled, reaching over to grab the makeshift bowl. “No thank you.”

Gaster might have smirked if he were in a better mood, but as it were he simply left. The rain was lighter than had been in days past but was still cold and dreary and progressively becoming colder as night fully descended. Gaster stood in the it for a moment, relishing in the chill that shocked him into a state of nearly awake, before he summoned a green shield above his head and set off to find Lytle.

Gaster decided to head to the medical wing first. Lytle wouldn’t have been given quarters in the apprentices’ quarters since she wasn’t training to become a full-fledged mage, but would instead be given a tent to set up on the edge of camp. Away from all the non-demon conspirators. He asked where her tent was, but she wasn’t there. He searched for her vainly, wandering around the quiet section of camp and asking anyone he stumbled across if they knew where Ms.Lytle was. Each and every time he was met with a firm ‘no’ before the person scurried off, glancing over their shoulder several times as they made their escape. After about half an hour of this, Gaster’s already tried patience was wearing even thinner, until he eventually gave up.

He hated what he could do, mostly because of the horrible training he had to go through to acquire the ability, partly because this was something the Arch-mage had trained him to do so he had to hate it on principle. Not to mention it was awfully uncomfortable, like thousands of tiny pins being stuck into his soul all at once. But he needed to find Juliet and make sure she was alright. God knew what kind of twisted things anger could make one do.

His soul was in a constant state of battle. It was how he was able to determine when other people were nearby, able to tell when they were using spells, even the strength of the spell and if it matched the base of their soul. Monsters didn’t have to do that to sense others’ souls, something that Gaster hadn’t yet identified in their soul recognizing when another soul was nearby. For humans even like Gaster who had forcibly shredded the wall between the outside world and their souls, the range was usually small and the toll on the soul from constantly being in battle was exhausting. But with more training and some determination he could expand the area of effect significantly- enough to cover the entire camp, if only briefly.

He flared his soul’s essence, searching for Lytle’s soul in the moment of clairvoyance it granted him. It seemed to flare painfully in his mind’s eye, a green heart floating a short stroll from the medical wing. Gaster huffed, mopping black hair out of his eyes. While his shield blocked the rain from above, it did nothing to keep mud from caking his boots and edge of his robes. He could summon a shield for him to ride on, but if people were already throwing him dark looks for just one for the rain, he could imagine the scenarios if he made another. None of them were worth some dirt he could easily clean with a simple spell. He just had to get inside first.

He walked through the camp until he found the place Lytle’s soul had been- and grimaced at where he found himself. He eyed the sign with a red dragon painted on it, gray smoke curling from its nostrils and a mug filled with a dark liquid grasped in one hand. The Drunken Dragon. How perfectly awful.

Gaster loathed bars. Buildings filled with noise and light and _people_ who all hated him- and what was their purpose anyways? For soldiers to go and try to forget their problems with a drink that made them sick and dulled their minds. Gaster had gone into a bar once before, back when Captain Avery still tried to get the doctor out of the lab. He had come after the captain practically dragged him from his lab to celebrate a recent victory, and he only stayed until the men were too drunk to notice his absence.

But this was where Lytle was, so this was where Gaster had to go. Why were people so high maintenance? Monsters weren’t nearly so bad...

Gaster shook his head to dispel the thoughts and opened the door. Inside, the room was stiflingly warm compared to the chill of the autumn showers, which only made the stench of sick and alcohol all the worse. The tavern was bustling with activity, every table surrounded with chattering soldiers. Two fireplaces crackled harshly at the opposite ends of the main room, the culprits of the suffocating heat.

Gaster’s finger twitched as he cleaned his robes and boots of mud with a quick spell, sending the filth back out the door. He absentmindedly smoothed his robes as he scanned the room for Lytle’s telltale head of fiery red and green healer’s robes. He found the sage sitting on top of a table near the front of the room, laughing loudly at something one of the numerous men surrounding her said. She flicked a stray strand of hair behind her shoulder and the men sighed happily. She took another huge swig of her mug and they eyed her greedily.

Gatser felt a burning pang pass through his chest, a sensation that overwhelmed the heat in the room or the discomfort of being surrounded by so much noise. It was dark and consuming, enough emotion that it actually shocked the doctor. He hadn’t felt so strongly about anything in a long time, and even then he wasn’t exactly sure what he was feeling. Watching the men around his healer try to gain her attention, make her laugh, buy her another drink- try to get a touch on her legs, chest, and behind, offering to take her back to their chambers, asking her price tag. It set Gaster’s blood boiling. Was he being possessive? Was this... jealousy..?

He stormed up to the table, black robes whipping behind him. Only a handful of the people noticed him, but they just as quickly disregarded him. With so much light in the building, it would have been difficult to identify Gaster by his eyes, the main way soldiers in camp knew to avoid him. He didn’t care at the point though, just felt more anger bubble up inside him. He cleared his throat loudly, but the noise in the building drowned out the sound. Gaster scowled before his hands jerked out a curse word, and he stretched his soul.

It was difficult to describe the action any other way. He didn’t summon it, but he flexed his magic in such a way that didn’t initiate battle while still grabbing the attention of everyone in the building. They eyed him warily, his magical presence squeezing their souls. Lytle glared down at him from her perch on top of the table.

“What da ya want?” Lytle slurred, the drink sloshing in her cup.

“We’re leaving.” Gaster stated, stepping forward to help the healer down. The men around her bristled.

“No we’re not.” Lytle retorted like a petulant child. “I’m staying right here. At least these men appreciate me.”

“They ‘appreciate’ your body.” Gaster replied, crossing his arms and feeling uncomfortable under the scrutiny of so many gazes. Not that his face showed any of it. “Now let’s go before you do something stupid.”

“Oh, like speak to the Arch-mage when I’m just some healer, right? No, no, a _whore_ , right?”

Gaster sighed crossly. “Lytle, I don’t have time for this-”

“You never have time for anything, you bloody ass!” Lytle shouted, jumping down from the table. Gaster watched her carefully as she stumbled before righting herself, ready to catch her if she fell. “You never have time to eat or sleep or have time for- for me!” The hiccup that interrupted her took away some of the bite from her words.

Gaster honestly didn’t care what Lytle thought of him at this point; he was not going to let her stay here and be taken advantage of by these soldiers. Not when she was so emotional. He ignored her protests and moved forward to grab her arm.

One of the nameless soldiers nearby stood up, inserting himself between the doctor and the healer. “The lady said she didn’t want to go with you. And from my understanding, you're the one that made her so flustered in the first place. So I would suggest you leave now.” He rumbled. Gaster could have laughed at the man’s idiotic bravery, having to bow his head down to even look him in the eye.

Gaster flicked a glance at Lytle who glowered at him silently save for the occasional hiccup. In any other instance, he would have just forcibly shoved the man away with magic and dragged Lytle out with him. But that didn’t seem right in this case. So Gaster huffed and drummed his fingers against his arm.

“Look Lytle, I know I have some explaining to do, but I really think we should go.” Gaster looked over the soldier blocking his way at the healer. The girl’s expression didn’t budge in the slightest.

“Your words mean little Gaster.” She spat. “You treat everyone around you like bloody garbage and I- *hiccup* I won’t tolerate it anymore!”

Gaster wanted to scream, but he just ground his teeth quietly, racking his brain for a way to get the healer to leave. “It’s been a long day.” He tried gently. “Why don’t we get you to your quarters and if you decide you still hate me in the morning, we can go from there.”

Gaster was worried for a second that Lytle would reject him again but finally she nodded, pushing past the man in front of her, past Gaster, and stood waiting by the door. Gaster spared one final glance back at the group of men that looked ready to tear him to pieces before walking by Lytle and leading her out.

He summoned another shield, this one big enough to cover both him and his companion. Gaster didn’t plan on saying anything while he walked her to her tent, but it seemed Lytle had different plans. “I’ll still hate you. The only reason I’ll tolerate you is for Sans’ sake. At least I’m his friend.”

Gaster sighed. “I don’t want to fight with you, Juliet.”

“Wow, what a shock.” She snarled. “And here I thought only friends and family didn’t want to fight.”

Gaster stopped abruptly, spinning around to stare down the girl. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to slap her or assure her that he was her friend and she was the best thing that had happened to him in too many years to count. He didn’t have to decide, though, as Lytle held his gaze for about two seconds before falling forward. If Gaster wasn’t there to catch her, she would have fallen face-first in the mud.

“Don’t touch me.” She mumbled, struggling weakly. Gaster held her against him until she stopped struggling and let him help her walk. He led her along, one arm around her waist in an effort to keep her upright as she lurched beside him. “Why did you want to leave so badly anyways? I was having _fun_.”

“Those men thought you were a whore.”

“And you don't?”

“Of course not,” Gaster replied gruffly, straining to pick at any remnants of his patience left, “and I was not about to let something bad happen to you.”

Lytle was silent, but Gaster had a feeling that was only because she was focusing on remaining conscious. Not that he really knew what being drunk was like.

They stopped in front of Lytle’s tent shortly thereafter. Gaster removed his arm from around Lytle’s waist. It felt cold after all that time snuggled against the healer’s warm body, and a part of him wanted to latch back around her. He forced himself not to, instead gently placing his hand on her back to guide her inside.

Lytle took one step before jerking to a stop. Gaster cocked his head at the healer, but her face was contorted in an expression of pain. Gaster opened his mouth to ask if she was alright just as she opened her mouth and hurled on the ground in front of them.

Gaster directed her as gently as he could as she was being sick, turning her so she wasn't heaving on the ground in front of them but off to the side and bringing her down to a kneeling position. He rubbed her back with one hand and kept her hair away from her face with the other. He summoned five of his spectral hands, sending three of them off to grab some herbs from his quarters. The other two sat idle until Lytle was done. Gaster waited for her gasps to turn into breaths and once they had, for her to pass out. She didn't though, just slumped over like a flower wilting, breaths coming hard and ragged. Gaster blinked down at her before slowly picking her up, carrying her inside bridal style as his two magical hands held the tent flaps open.

“Why are you doing this?” Lytle murmured as he laid her down on her cot. “I spoke so harshly to you, I ran off to a bar to forget my troubles, I acted like a child. You don't have time to waste on someone like me. I'm not your friend.”

Gaster sighed, looking down at the half-conscious girl. Was that what she really thought? Probably, seeing as drunk people tended to have no filter. Gaster turned away as his other three hands returned, two holding a number of the herbs he needed and the last holding a clay cup. As he set to work grinding them into a poultice, he thought about how to answer her. “You annoy me to great extent, you speak without thinking, and you act like a child sometimes. But still, I am your friend, Lytle.”

“I just want to understand,” She said, voice hoarse, “why you said what you said. Is the Arch-mage really so terrible that you couldn't tell him I was a friend?”

Gaster helped the healer sit up as he had her consume his concoction. She did so without protest, but after she had swallowed it, she coughed lightly. “What was that?”

“It'll help in the morning.” He replied simply, sitting on the one lonely stool in the tent.

“I didn't know you knew alchemy.”

“I am still a doctor.” Gaster replied, closing his eyes tilting his head back a bit as he felt a headache coming on. “Even if I don't do much doctoring.”

“You didn't answer my other question.”

“Hm?” Gaster cracked an eye at Lytle who had rolled onto her side with her arms tucked under her head so she could look at him.

“I want to know Gaster.” She said softly. “About your training with the Arch-mage.”

Gaster was silent for several, long moments as the floor seemed to give way beneath him. Suddenly, memories were flooding back, sweeping him away as they crashed into him in one wave after another. He heard himself distantly ask, “What do you want to know?”

“Everything.” Was Lytle’s surprisingly firm response. Gaster found himself grounded slightly as he locked gazes with the healer, her eyes more focused than before. That didn’t make sense, the medicine shouldn’t have had any effect until later... but Lytle’s soul was that of healing. Maybe it had something to do with that. He would need to investigate later, perhaps. He snapped back to attention as Lytle continued speaking. “Whatever you remember from the moment your training began.”

Gaster frowned. “I have a very good memory, Lytle, so that may take some time. Are you sure you want to listen to all of it?”

“Positive.” Lytle said, staring at him with huge eyes that seemed to glow in the darkness of the night. Gaster felt his own eyes dim as he looked away.

“Right,” Gaster started dumbly. “Well...”

And he told her. All of it. Every last detail he could recall, all the hardships, every little moment of light, up until he was considered a full-fledged mage and plopped down in this camp. Lytle somehow managed to stay awake for all it, staying attentive as the moon arced above them until it was a last beginning to dip below the horizon.

“Gaster...” Lytle eventually began after he finished, but trailed off. “Are you... okay?”

Gaster stared down at his hands as the memories started to recede and he remembered exactly when and where he was. “Are you okay with everything the church has done to you?”

Lytle didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. Gaster stood up and moved toward the tent’s exit, but Lytle called out, “Wait!”

Gaster stopped and looked back at her expectantly.

“I...” She closed her eyes, rolling over onto her back. “I don’t want to spend another night alone and shunned in this tent, Gaster. Will you stay? Please?”

Gaster frowned. He had a lot of work to do if he wanted to get an enchantment done, but he decided that he had blown off Lytle enough times. If he really thought of himself as her friend, he should start acting like it. “Of course, Juliet.”

“Thank you.” She mumbled before yawning and promptly falling asleep.

Gaster stood at the edge of her cot, watching the gentle rise and fall of her stomach as she breathed. She looked so utterly serene that Gaster wondered what she was dreaming about or if she was dreaming at all. Gaster couldn’t remember the last time he had a good dream. Mostly it was just visiting the past, days spent in training, or, on rare occasions, with his mother. Gaster hadn’t told Lytle about his time before the Arch-mage, but it did feel better having talked about his training. Strangely enough. He would have to ask her about that when she woke up.

He settled down on the damp ground, gangly legs pulled up to his chest and head leaned back against the foot of Lytle’s simple bed. He stared at the slumped roof of the tent, thinking and remembering, until the soft, peaceful sound of Lytle breathing lulled him to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So after some belated research I found that card games weren’t really a thing until later in time than when this story approximately takes place (like medieval times). So I have decided that Sans would know what cards were because he was a monster with magic in his society that would make things like cards accessible. Just like how Gaster has paper and parchment because he makes it with his magic, but humans hate anything doing with magic so it wouldn’t be a mainstream thing in human society.  
> We got a short introduction of the Arch-mage. You may not hate him yet, but you will. If I can fulfill my role as an author at least...  
> I was originally going to go in a little different direction in this chapter, but I decided that it would be rushing things. And what’s the rush? I want you guys to love these characters as much as I do. So, yes, I originally intended this first section to more-or-less pretty short, but I want to develop more. Hope you guys are okay with that! And if you aren’t, it’s my story so I’ll do what I want and sorry! Also, I apologize if this chapter is a little choppy. I usually find a song that I can listen to on repeat when I write a chapter, that way the mood is consistent, but that didn’t really happen this time around cause I had a bunch of songs I was listening to! Which is better than last chapter when I didn’t have a good song to listen to at all, but still.  
> We’ll get chapters on Gaster’s past from now on! It won’t be every other chapter (probably) since I don’t plan to document everything that happened to the poor character. But hopefully you’ll get to see why Gaster is just a little messed up.  
> Also (whew, sorry for the long A/N!) I’m thinking of setting up a tumblr for this story. That way you guys could ask any questions you have, I could say when to expect an update, or post any random thing relating to the story. How many of you would get behind that?


	9. At Least My Childhood Was- oh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tumblr for this story is up! You got any questions, pop over there and I'll answer them!  
> https://hmsi-story.tumblr.com/  
> Also, I just finished this chapter and I haven't proofread it. There might be typos. Just ignore those...

**Sixteen Years Ago**

There was a bad feeling in the pit of Adrian’s gut.

It was different than the feeling he got before he had to go into town with Mother for something. It was even different than when he saw the local priest walking up to their humble abode, holy bible and cross in hand.

Nothing was out of place; the morning had been perfectly unspectacular. Mother had made a simple breakfast and sent Adrian off to enjoy some free time before she would need his help doing chores later. Still, as Adrian rounded the corner of his house and headed into the woods behind it, he couldn’t help but feel like something was dreadfully off about the day. He would have to ask his friend about it when he met up with him.

He carefully picked his way through the woods that he knew as well as the back of his hand, yet seemed almost foreign on this strange morning. He had been exploring it since he was old enough to cast a spell- which was to say about five. He had walked through it enough times that he had created a slight path, a narrow opening in the underbrush just wide enough for his nine-year-old body.

Adrian froze as he heard rustling from off to his right, followed by some soft cursing. His eyes glowed brilliantly as terrified magic swelled in his soul. He crouched down as the noise came closer, his soul flicking into Battle. He could sense a large soul coming toward him, the most powerful soul he had ever felt. It’s presence was almost overbearing, and Adrian unconsciously summoned a shield to block whoever was approaching, his eyes swirling green. This wasn’t Edgar coming to greet him- this was a human with a dangerous amount of magic in their soul. More than even Adrian’s. The boy felt his breath hitch in his throat as he realized that. All his life, he had always had an advantage over other people, even his mother and Edgar. He had magic on his side, more than anyone else he knew. But whoever this was fighting their way through his woods, they had more magic at their disposal than him.

For the first time in his life, Adrian Gaster felt utter, undiluted fear.

He stretched with his soul, trying to find Edgar, but to no avail. His breathing began to pick up as panic set in. What was he going to do? He couldn’t be caught by this person, there was no telling what they would do to him. There was no Edgar nearby that could come to his rescue. He was too deep in the woods to make a break for it and go back to Mother for help. He couldn’t do anything, so that’s exactly what he did. Sat and waited and prayed that the person would miss him in whatever they were doing. Adrian slowly inched his way into a bush nearby, trying desperately to make as little sound as possible, dispelled his shield and waited.

Rustling in front of him and shuddering bushes heralded the approach of the the mystery person. Brown boots stomped their way from out of the underbrush, harsh cursing in a male voice from somewhere above. There was a slight pause where Adrian held his breath and squeezed his eyes shut. The world was completely still and silent as that one moment seemed to drag on forever. Adrian knew that God had no love for a demon child like him, but still found himself saying a silent prayer anyways.

The boots shifted slightly as the man stooped over, brushing branches aside as he peered down at the child. If Adrian wasn’t already holding his breath, he would have stopped breathing. The man that looked down at him had glowing white eyes like his. It only made sense, logically, since Adrian could sense so much magic in his soul, but still it was a shock. There was another person with white eyes and a huge soul. Another spawn of the devil.

The man reached down and plucked the child from his hiding place, holding him by the scruff of his shirt. Adrian squirmed and kicked in an attempt to wiggle away, but the man’s grip was firm as he held the boy far from his body. Adrian’s leg were long but not quite that long...

Adrian could have slapped himself as the thought dawned on him. He muttered a spell, and the man was flung backward as if a giant hand had slapped him back. Adrian landed on the ground hard, but the man hit the tree behind him harder. Adrian scrambled to his feet, summoning a ring of green shields around him. In his panic, he couldn’t regulate his magic properly, so the shields were huge and too heavy to move. He had effectively trapped himself. Adrian wanted to slap himself again, but the man was climbing to his feet and the boy had to focus.

“W-who are you?” He shouted, voice hoarse from lack of use. His hands moved along with the words, signing them out in unconscious motions. “What do you want? W-where’s Edgar?”

The man took his time brushing off the brown and white dust from his purple robes. He eyed Adrian contemplatively, face expressionless. “You’re coming with me,” was all he said.

Adrian grimaced, a hard knot forming in the pit of his stomach. “N-no I’m not! Go away!”

The man seemed almost amused as he cocked an eyebrow at the child. “And how are you going to stop me, pray tell?”

Adrian’s hands jerked out a silent response as his voice failed him. **I know a lot of dangerous magic. Back off now.**

“Oh, do you now?” The man purred. Adrian gawked at the stranger that knew his family’s sign language, but didn’t get a chance to say anything as the man continued, “Well, I can assure you that I know more. Would you like a demonstration?”

Adrian wasn’t given any time to react. He couldn’t even follow what happened. One moment he was safely turtled up in his magic, the next all his shields had been destroyed and he was lying on the ground, chin digging painfully into the dirt as the man held him down.

“I am only going to say this once, so listen closely.” The man spat in his ear. “The monster living in these woods in dead.” The man paused and let that sink in for a moment. Adrian felt his entire world melt away. That’s why he couldn’t sense his soul, that’s why when Adrian had knocked the man down there had been that white... dust...

Adrian let out a throat-tearing scream, squeezing his eyes shut as they blazed with the magic in his soul. He quickly ran through some dozen spells, but none of them could do anything to the man pinning him down. He could feel the man’s soul expanding magic in response, a cold and harsh feeling on Adrian’s own. The man gripped the back of the boy’s head and slammed it into the ground. Spots danced across Adrian’s vision as pain blossomed in his forehead and a sickening crunch split from his nose. He cried out, fighting against the weight of the man as he placed more pressure on Adrian’s back with his knee .

“ _Shut up, I’m speaking_.” The man said, more bite to his tone than before but the change was almost too little to notice. “As I was saying, yes, the monster is dead. Now you are going to come with me unless you want the same thing to happen to your mother. I’ll explain more once we set off.”

The weight was lifted from his back and the harsh grip of the hand on the back of his head was released. Adrian slowly pushed himself up, one eye trained warily on the stranger. The man made sure Adrian was watching before turning and walking away.

Adrian tentatively felt his nose, and with a grimace, confirmed that it was broken. His head pounded, which only made the pain in his face worse. The boy looked back at the man, licking his lips. “Don’t I get to say good-bye?”

The man stopped, letting out a world-weary sigh. “ _No_. Now come.”

“But-”

“I don’t care. I don’t want to see your mother, and we don’t have time anyways.”

“But you broke my nose.” Adrian persisted, trying to find a way to persuade this man. He was not about to go anywhere without saying goodbye. “My mother has a green soul and-”

“I know and I don’t care.” The man hissed, whirling around to face the insistent child. “We’re leaving. _NOW._ ”

Adrian flinched as the man nearly shouted the last word. The man huffed, his robes flaring out as he spun back around. He set off again and Adrian silently followed him this time. The man led him out of the woods where a carriage was waiting, two nondescript brown horses and a tired carriage driver waiting with it. The carriage driver didn’t look the least bit surprised as a man in the purple robes and a boy with a broken nose climbed inside. Adrian heard him spit off to the side before he cracked the horses into motion. He slumped over as the reality of the situation truly began to sink in. A familiar burning behind his eyes and a constricting feeling in his chest told him what was coming next.

“I believe we have time for talk now that we our on our way.” The man started, inspecting his nails. “Let’s see, introductions first. I am the Arch-mage. You will refer to me as Arch-mage or sir, and if you don’t you will be punished appropriately.” Adrian glared silently at the man across from him as tears formed at the corners of his eyes. “The church has been watching you for some time now, and as war with the monsters is in the near future, it is time you learn to use the magic in your soul for some good. They have tasked me with training you for the war, so that is what I will do.” The Arch-mage finally looked up at Adrian. He frowned when he saw the water dripping down his face. “Um...” The man blinked, obviously uncertain how to handle a crying child. “S-stop that. Crying is a sign of weakness. And if you show any weakness or disobedience, I will not hesitate to have your mother killed.”

Adrian felt a stab of fear strike through his heart, and he hurriedly wiped at his eyes even though it aggravated his nose. This might have been the worst situation he’s been in so far, but things could be worse. They could have already killed Mother, then where would he be? He had to remain strong, like this man said, and show no weakness. He could do that for her. He _would_ do that for her. After everything she’s done for him, he wouldn’t let her die because of him.

The Arch-mage seemed to relax once Adrian settled down. He nodded, glancing outside the carriage window. “Well, I have some things to attend to. There will be some attendants waiting for you once you arrive at my home. They’ll see to you.” The Arch-mage shuffled to his feet, stooping over and opening the carriage door. Adrian stared as the man poked his head outside before stopping and glancing back at Adrian. “What’s your name?”

“Adrian.”

The Arch-mage frowned. “I already have a student named Adrian.” He mused, all the while the carriage door was open, wind flooding the carriage and whipping the Arch-mage’s black hair around his head.

“My surname is Gaster.” He offered, but the Arch-mage scowled.

“I know that, you simpleton.” He sneered, and Adrian was surprised at the sheer maliciousness in his voice. “I will just call you Boy, then.” Adrian frowned, but the Arch-mage was nodding to himself. Without saying anything else, the man’s white eyes flared blue as he hopped out of the carriage and flew away. Gaster gaped at the man’s form as he disappeared from sight before closing the door, completely awestruck.

Flying with blue magic was incredibly difficult, it said so in Mother’s old notes and Adrian had learned from experience. It was a constant battle of keeping the magic on your body from crushing you and staying airborne. It sounded simple enough, but in practice was terribly hard. If too much blue magic was used on the body, it would be crushed. If not enough, and you faceplant in the ground. Slight changes in the weather would affect it too; wind, rain, even just how hot or cold it was. Not even many monsters could maintain that type of perfect balance, blue soul or not. He had come home on several occasions with bloody knees and palms, and bruises all over. Edgar had always laughed every time he failed, but was always there to heal him. Or, if he wasn’t spending time with Edgar, Mother would take care of him.

Now his friend was dead. His mother’s life was held in his hands. He was being held by a nameless man with just a title that had made him a nameless boy. He had a greater control of magic than Adrian could ever hope to achieve, and was seemed determined to make Adrian’s life dreadful.

Adrian couldn’t stop the tears this time. They trickled down his face, harsh hiccups forcing their way out from his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut, curling up on his side in a fetal position as the carriage continued to bump along. He wanted to go back, back to yesterday when everything was normal. He wanted Edgar, he wanted his home, he wanted his mommy.

But nobody came.

He was completely and utterly alone, sobbing on the wooden seat of a carriage, a driver who couldn’t care less about him keeping the vehicle in motion. Edgar was gone. Mother would be gone if Adrian didn’t do as the Arch-mage said. He had to be strong. But for now, while the Arch-mage was gone, he would allow himself to be weak.

* * *

 

Adrian jolted away as the carriage clomped to a stop. He rubbed his eyes and stretched his stiff muscles- he must have cried himself to sleep. He sat up slowly, rolling his neck and looking outside the carriage window. The sky outside was still bright, though the sun was swiftly approaching the horizon. Still, there was some hours left to the day. He might as well face them as best he could and see where he had ended up.

Before he could make any further moves, the carriage door opened, revealing a skinny slave. She stepped aside to let the boy out, bowing her head and motioning with her arm silently. Adrian cautiously slid down from the seat and onto the dusty path. The girl shut the door after him and motioned for him to follow. He started as the carriage driver cracked the horses into motion again, leading them farther down the road where a stable and burly stablehand waited. He looked back to the girl who was waiting patiently for him, head bowed and hands clasped in front of her. Adrian tore his gaze from her to the looming structure ahead- a grand villa sprawled along the land in front him. Manicured hedges and beautiful flowers adorned the garden, the cobblestone path was almost shiny in its cleanliness, the horse fountain in the middle of the small plaza in front of the dwelling was flowing with water like liquid crystal. Adrian gawked at the visage of perfection, suddenly self-conscious of his dirty clothes and bloody face. He eventually managed to put one foot in front of the other and follow the slave down the path. As his feet travelled from the dusty road to the slick stones, he almost believed he would look behind him and his footprints would be magically washed away. He was slightly disappointed when he glanced back and they were still there, marring the extraordinary beauty.

The girl turned as they passed the fountain, leading him away from the front of the residence and instead taking him to a smaller building on the right end of the grounds. She silently ushered him inside, closing the door behind them. Adrian looked around as she continued on, passing several doors as their steps echoed in the stone corridor.

He finally settled his gaze on the slave. She was probably fifteen and spectacularly average. Short hair cropped to her head, an average height, and from the glimpses he caught, she was neither ugly nor beautiful. Just average. Her clothing, though simple, was just as clean and upkept as everything else the Arch-mage owned.

“Um... excuse me?” Adrian whispered tentatively, wincing. He could almost hear the brittle snap of the silence breaking, but the slave did not respond. She must not have heard him; he tried again. “Excuse me? Where are we going?”

The girl again didn't say anything, but she did quicken her pace, her slippered feet slapping the stone floor in her rush.

Adrian huffed, crossing his arms and tucking his chin in his chest. It seemed this slave would be no more helpful than the Arch-mage had been. He remained silent as she brought him to the last door at the end of the hall. She moved to open it, but hesitated, peering at Adrian through the corner of her eye. She took a deep breath as she appeared to come to a decision, hurriedly looking around to make sure they were alone. Which, Adrian thought, was a little absurd as this building was probably the servants’ chambers, and the whole thing was nothing more than a hallway connecting a string of rooms. Finally content with their surroundings, the girl crouched down so she could lay her hands on his shoulders.

“Listen,” she said, voice hushed and creaking with fear, “Master won't allow us to speak to you, or anyone else. _Please_ do not speak to us. I will tell you this time that Master told me to bring you to the infirmary if you appeared injured, then show you to your quarters so that you may get ready for when he comes back later today.” Adrian noticed how even the Arch-mage’s slaves spoke like they were at least a little educated. The man wanted nothing but perfection in every aspect. He shuddered as he thought of what that meant for him.

She stood back up abruptly, smoothing the front of her dress with her hands in quick strokes. She swung open the door without knocking, pushing Adrian inside, and just as unceremoniously, clicked the door shut. Adrian blinked, absorbing his new surroundings for a moment. The room wasn’t very small, but was cramped nonetheless, filled to the brim with medical supplies. Cabinets lined the walls, baskets filled with dried herbs littered the ground, small tables with grinding tools and bandages dotted the room. At the sound of the door, the man in the back of the room looked up from rummaging through one of the baskets and visibly blanched. He awkwardly cleared his throat before returning to his basket with renewed vigor. Adrian was about to ask him what he was doing, but stopped himself as he remembered what the slave girl said. Instead, he waited patiently for the man to attend to him, keeping himself entertained by seeing which of the herbs lying around he could identify. Most of them were fairly common ingredients in different remedies for common ailments- stomach issues, headaches, insomnia-

Adrian was startled out of his thoughts as the man practically lunged forward, eyes and hands glowing a soft green that mended the boy’s injuries. As soon as his nose was straight again and his HP points were all back in their rightful places, the man just as quickly withdrew, sticking his head back in with his herbs. Adrian blinked, trying to comprehend why the people here acted like he was made of hot iron. Eventually, he turned back around and let himself out to where the slave was still waiting for him. She wordlessly led him to what he assumed would be his room, and he just as wordlessly followed.

This time, she led him around to the other side of the villa to a cellar door nestled next to the wall. She produced a key from some hidden pocket in her dress, clicking open the heavy iron lock and pulling open the wooden doors. She stepped back, bowing her head again and letting Adrian climbed down the steps in front of her. He walked down into the room, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting. The only source of light was from the open door in the ceiling, revealing a bed, dresser, and small desk against the far wall. There were light scuffs on the stone ground that suggested other furniture had been removed to make room for the Arch-mage’s new guest. Adrian turned as the girl stepped down behind him, smoothing the light wrinkles in her dress again. She strode over to the dresser, opening it and pulling out a mundane outfit of brown cotton. She thrust the clothes into Adrian’s hands before scurrying back up the steps, closing the doors behind her. Adrian heard the heavy _thunk_ as she locked the door, leaving him alone in the room- his room- to change and wait for the Arch-mage.

He slowly stripped off his clothes and adorned the new ones, feeling his way through the dark and praying there were no rats dwelling in the cellar with him. He felt apprehensive for some reason as he summoned a ball of light to see by, probably afraid of seeing if anything lurked in the dark. He was truly alone though, and the boy let out a small breath of relief as he sat down on the edge of his straw bed.

Adrian got up and looked through his new clothing collection for a while, but all he found was the same drab brown in both shirt and pants. He paced around the room, recalling every herb he could and listing their medicinal properties while stubbornly keeping his thoughts from going any farther than that. Herbs made him think of healing which made him think of green magic which made him think of Mot- no, it made him think of no one. He practiced some of his magic, summoning spectral hands that signed to him, shields that circled the room, more balls of light of varying colors and sizes, anything he could think of that wouldn’t potentially hurt him. He tried to keep his thoughts from straying down the path of magic. Magic made him think of practicing which made him think of the woods which made him think of Edgar.

Edgar. Impromptu training sessions in the woods filled with laughter and jokes. The way his hands stumbled through the signs Adrian tried to teach him. Hot days spent under a willow tree, hearing stories about faraway lands. Cold days spent around crackling fire as he made it dance. An autumn day filled with tears and confusion before he told Adrian there was nothing to fear, they were family.

Mother. He balled his hands into fists as his concentration shattered, replaced with a numbing sense of despair. His magic fizzled out of existence as he collapsed onto his bed, mind swarming with memories. Mother’s silent smile. Her hands and eyes glowing as she practiced her magic. Helping him read through her old notes on magic. Showing him herbs she collected and telling him how they could help people. Sitting outside with her, gazing at the stars or watching the sunset as she told him about the value of life, how it must always be treasured. The graceful way she signed his name and told him she loved him.

He was sobbing in the darkness, truly alone.


	10. This Is Escalating A Bit

Gaster remembered this place; he didn't know how he could have forgotten it. This tree stump, this hill, the valley below with its human army preparing for battle. He watched them silently, dimly aware that he was dreaming but unable to convince himself that this wasn't somewhat real. It _felt_ so real. He could look down and pick out individual blades of grass, see tiny beetles and ants crawling amongst the green. He looked up and gazed at the blue sky and stringy clouds above, but couldn't look long because the sun was too bright and it hurt his eyes. He felt warm- the heat wasn't oppressive despite the strength of the sunlight- relishing as an icy breeze enveloped him in its refreshing embrace. No, he couldn't say that this wasn't somewhat real.

He waited, curious if events would play out the same as when he was last here. He wasn't kept waiting long, soon enough he felt the approach of one monster soul followed by three human souls. He trained his eyes on the ridge he remembered them running up from behind. The monster popped into view as it scrambled its way up the hill and gunned it down the other side, and soon the humans were in sight, tailing the poor creature. Gaster watched the scene play out once again: the monster made the mistake of looking back, he tripped, the humans encircled him with their weapons at the ready.

The same thought occurred to him again of its own volition. _This wasn't justice._

He didn't know where he was or what the consequences of his actions would be. But he did know that he was tired, so very tired, of sitting and watching, and that Lytle wouldn't want him to just sit idly by as a helpless monster was slaughtered.

So he stood up. His white eyes flared with blue as he flung the men fifty feet into the air, then they returned to white as he let them drop. They screamed as they fell, landing with a satisfying thud. They did not stir again.

Gaster gasped at the sensation he had only felt once before- a warm, addictive rush passing from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. The effect of gaining more execution points. Gaster felt this and reacted the same way as the first time it had happened.

He gulped in a huge breath of air and retched onto the ground in front of him. The monster was alive, but Gaster had killed the humans. He didn't know why, he had just acted without thinking, which was the problem he supposed as he wiped his mouth with a shaking hand. He made terrible choices when he didn't consider his options carefully, which was probably why he had always done so poorly in fights. It was also why he avoided confrontation because the last time something similar to this happened, it had ended much the same. Another human dead.

They didn't deserve that, he could feel his soul screaming at the injustice of his actions. They hadn't deserved that, they were barely more than children, they had families that expected them to come back home, and Gaster had disregarded all of that and killed them.

_This wasn't justice._

He blinked his eyes open groggily, half-expecting the field to still be there, but of course he was back in Lytle’s tent. Back home.

_Those men won't be going back home and it's all your fault._

Gaster blinked as the thought zipped through his mind, unable to remember why he had thought that or what it had been about. His soul buzzed in his chest, and at first he thought it was just from the influx of magic from sleeping. But the feeling became worse, demanding his attention until he could no longer ignore it. He summoned his soul, yet the feeling didn't pass at all, wiping away any thoughts of the problem being related to magic. Usually, he would summon his soul and some of the magic in his soul would diffuse into the atmosphere, relieving the annoying buzzing some. His soul continued this time though, like a swarm of angry hornets. He combed through his stats, trying to identify the problem.

He stopped at the first thing he checked on. His HP. It had risen five points.

He let out a choked laugh at the numbers. 66/66. Sans had said HP was Hope, which made sense considering how much he had lost of both over the years. But he had gained some back last night. He smiled slightly, glancing behind him at the sleeping form of Lytle.

Another increase in the buzzing sensation brought his attention back to his soul. He searched deeper until he came to his Execution Points.

63/63, they read. It seemed his HP wasn't the only thing that had risen. But this didn't make any sense. He hadn't killed anything.

The thought crept back again from earlier. _Those men won't be going back home..._

What had he dreamt about? Did he kill something in his dream? Did killing something in a dream even contribute to a person's EXP?

His attention snapped back to his soul as the numbers dimmed and disappeared before being replaced with the usual points. 20/20.

The buzzing grinded to a halt, not so much feeling like whatever had made his soul behave so oddly leaving, but just stop acting up. Gaster frowned at the numbers, mind racing as he considered what had just happened. He had never read an account of someone's Execution Points becoming temporarily inaccurate. So what was happening to him?

Rustling from behind broke him from his thoughts. He quickly stood up as Lytle awoke with a soft groan. She cracked her eyes open, brow furrowed. “Gaster? What happened? Why do I feel so awful?”

“Lytle-”

She shot upright, any traces of sleep wiped away, her eyes as big as saucers. “Why are you in my tent?”

“Ms.Lytle,” Gaster began again, his patience spreading thin, “You were sick last night, I brought you back to your tent and took care of you, you asked me to stay so I did.”

“Is that it?” She asked warily, eyeing him. Her face suddenly went as red as a rose. “We didn’t, ah... you know...”

“Have sex?” Gaster asked with an arched eyebrow. Lytle’s face went a shade of red deeper- if that was even possible. “No, you are not whore, as we established last night, nor would I take advantage of you when you were clearly so emotional and distraught.”

“Uh,” Lytle hid her face in her hands for a moment, and when she dropped them her face was a more normal color, “Thanks for that, I guess.”

Gaster nodded, rubbing the back of his head and wondering if he should say something further. The sage was biting her lip, staring at her hands as they sat in her lap. Gaster frowned, figuring she probably wanted him to leave, and moved to go.

“Wait!” Lytle stopped him, reaching out with a hand. Her eyes flicked down at the hand and she furrowed her brow at it like it had been disobedient before lamely letting it drop back down next to its counterpart. “I’m sorry for what I said and what I did, Gaster. I acted stupid and was being immature and- and I hope you can forgive me.” The healer finished, bringing her gaze up to look the man in the eye.

Gaster blinked at her. “I already have.”

Lytle stared at him for a moment longer before her face broke into a smile. “Well, that’s good to hear.” They lapsed into silence for a moment while Lytle thought, her lips pursed. Gaster restrained a sigh as he waited for the girl to voice whatever thoughts were in her head. “Gaster, what’s your first name?”

“Adrian.” Gaster answered, cocking his head. “Why?”

“I was just wondering.” She replied thoughtfully. “I’ve never heard anyone call you by it, is all, and I didn’t know what it was. Do you want me to call you by it?”

Gaster looked away. “Adrian is dead. It’s just Gaster now.”

Lytle frowned, but apparently saw that he didn’t want to talk about it further. “Did we... talk about something last night? I feel like you told me something important, but I don’t... remember exactly...” She trailed off before shaking her head. “That probably doesn’t make much sense, huh? Sorry, I’ve never been that drunk before.”

“No, that’s to be expected. Your memories will return, gradually and in flashes, I’ve heard.”

“So... did we talk about something?”

Gaster let out a quiet huff. “Yes, though I’m not sure I actually want you to remember it, now that I think about it.”

Lytle looked at him in concern. “Why?”

Gaster squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head. “It’s not important. I need to get back to my lab to feed Sans and resume working.”

“Wait, Gaster!” Lytle sprang up, rummaging around in her bag before producing a neatly folded paper. She beamed at him, thrusting the object in his direction. Gaster stared down at it until Lytle sighed and said, “Well, take it!” Gaster gingerly pinched it, pulling it from the girl’s grasp. “I will admit, I’m not very fond of the message you wrote me, but I did manage to break it and that’s all that matters to me! Bet you didn’t think I could do it, didn’t you?”

Gaster carefully unfolded the paper. It was the encrypted message he had written her alright, with English crammed in the lines between it. Gaster read it over to make sure everything was right as Lytle continued speaking, “It was hard alright, but I did it! I actually finished it yesterday morning and had come to the lab to show you, but you weren’t there, and when you did come the whole ordeal with the Arch-mage happened and, well.” Lytle stopped. Gaster glanced up just in time to see her snatch the paper back. “Were you still listening?”

“To your incessant ramblings? Unfortunately.” Gaster had meant it as a joke but it came out dull and flat. Lytle, at least, seemed to see his effort since she didn’t get mad.

“Good.” She said, smacking him lightly on the arm. She turned her attention to the paper in her hands, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she began reading. “‘To Ms.Lytle, you are infinitely annoying and infuriating. You have not stopped pestering me since the moment I met you, yet I find myself still willing to teach you if you can read this message. I expect great things.’” Lytle smiled. “And it’s signed ‘Gaster’. So, you ready to begin?”

Gaster sighed, running a hand over his face. “Clean yourself up. I’ll be waiting in my lab for when you’re ready.”

Lytle squealed in delight, jumping from foot to foot. Gaster thought for a moment that she might hug him like the time he agreed to teach her if she broke his code and was simultaneously disgusted and thrilled. She didn’t, though, much to his relief and disappointment. Gaster frowned slightly at the conflicting emotions, turning and leaving so Lytle didn’t see the action and get the wrong idea.

“Thank you, Gaster! I promise I’ll be the best student ever, I won’t disappoint you!”

Gaster just nodded, brushing the tent flap aside and stepping outside. He breathed in a lungful of crisp morning air. It must have stopped raining at some point last night, and now the world was just covered in a thin, gray mist and mud. He wondered exactly how he was going to teach the girl. He didn’t think the Arch-mage’s methods of teaching him would be very... ethical, and he had never seen his mentor training one of his other students. He had nothing to go off. He sighed, ignoring the fearful looks people gave him as they rushed by and wondering what he was going to do. 

* * *

 

Sans waited.

And waited.

...And waited.

He had been waiting since Gaster had left in such a hurry, off to find Lytle, he had said. Sans could only wonder what was happening as the time dragged on. Had the doctor found her yet, or was she just gone? If he had found her, why wasn’t he back yet? Was he punishing her for running off, or was Lytle refusing to come back? Was Lytle refusing to come back ever and was just leaving the skeleton to fend for himself? No, no she wouldn’t do that, she promised she would help him escape. So _where were they?_

He paced until he wore himself out then curled up on his bedroll, one socket trained on the door as he fell asleep. When he woke up, he wasn’t sure how long he had been asleep, but they still weren’t back. He was half-tempted to break out of his cell again just so he could go out and find them, but the moment he remembered the Arch-mage and his treatment yesterday, he scrapped the idea. He would just have to continue waiting, even if Sans didn’t have a soul of Patience, even if he was going absolutely mad just sitting in this cage unable to do anything but twiddle his thumbs and-

There was a knock at the door. Sans shot upright, his soul skipping a beat before hammering wildly in his ribcage. He could sense it, that same well of magic power that had knocked on the door the day before. He had been too engrossed in his own frantic thoughts to notice it approaching, that huge, cruel soul. He glanced around the room as if Gaster might magically appear there, but of course he didn’t. Sans was left in the same predicament as before.

The seconds seemed to drag on before the Arch-mage decided to simply let himself in. The man looked around the lab, snorting and crossing his arms. He gave Sans a sidelong glance, slinking over to stand at the bars of his cell. Sans scooted back into the corner, the farthest he could get from this man that looked at him like a particularly interesting ant.

“Gaster isn’t here to help you this time, monster.” Sans was afraid for a second that the Arch-mage knew he knew human tongue, but the man continued without ever giving pause for the skeleton to speak. Sans wasn’t actually sure if he would have given him the chance either way. “Which means I can do whatever I want to and just have his little whore healer patch you up.” Sans pressed himself further against the wall as the Arch-mage reached forward to grip the wooden bars of his cells. His eyes were wild and hungry behind the white glow present there.“This is good, I’m in desperate need of hurting something right now.”

Sans squeezed his sockets shut, unwilling to even see what awful magics the Arch-mage would use against him. A familiar, gracious sound spared him though. The door opening again. Sans cracked a socket open just as Gaster blinked at the Arch-mage.

It was silent for a moment while the scientist processed what was happening. “What is going on here?”

“Ah, Gaster,” Immediately, the Arch-mage was just as he appeared yesterday: calm, collected, uncaring, “I came to inform you to start work on the modification of Integrity souls in camp, but you weren’t here at first.” The man cocked his head at his former pupil. “Where were you?”

Gaster did not say anything at first. “You are no longer my mentor.” He replied eventually. “I do not need to answer such things anymore.”

“Oh,” The Arch-mage said, looking as if he just caught a whiff of something rotten, “That means you spent the night with that little harlot.”

Sans thought Gaster might just brush off the words and send the Arch-mage on his way again. To his surprise, the man’s face darkened, and Sans shuddered as he remembered the first time he met the doctor.

“Don’t call her that.” Gaster said, his voice portraying none of the obvious rage building in his face.

“Well, what should I call her then?” The Arch-mage responded, voice exasperated. “Do you prefer whore? I thought harlot sounded more eloquent. Perhaps prostitute?”

“Call her none of those things.” Gaster snapped, his hands curling into fists. “For she is none of those things. She is my friend, nothing more.”

The Arch-mage seemed amused. “If you say so, _Boy_. Do you say the same thing about your monster that you treat so kindly?”

“Leave him out of this.” Gaster hissed, glowering. “How I treat the monster is none of your concern. Not anymore.”

“I beg to differ.” The Arch-mage said, strolling over to the doctor’s desk and examining the notes there. “The church wants to know, which means I have to know so I can tell them. Tell me, why haven’t you done any more tests on the monster? Why don’t you let the soldiers in camp have a nice skeleton practice dummy every now and then? Your healer can just work her magic on him. There’s absolutely no inconvenience. After all,” The Arch-mage added, “He is just a monster.”

Gaster’s hands were clenched so hard that they were shaking. The Arch-mage waited for the doctor to speak, but no words came out. “You’re growing soft again.” The Arch-mage continued, shaking his head. “You still think you’re making her proud, don’t you? You think that by showing the monsters whatever mercy you can, you think you make your mother happy. I will tell you only once more- _you do nothing but disappoint her_. I knew her, so I know as well as you do, though you lie to yourself. You’ve hurt too much, done too much for someone with a green soul like hers to accept you. I’ve seen your LV Gaster, though it was some time ago, which only makes it worse since I’m sure it’s done nothing but climb.”

The Arch-mage sighed, walking back over to his former student. “Come, it’s been too long and you’ve grown too soft. Here I thought I wouldn’t have to babysit you so, Boy. We’ll duel, I’ll win, then I’ll send whatever Integrity souls I can find over here.” Gaster did nothing but glare silently in return. “Bring the monster as well, I want him to know just how pointless this war is that he gave his life for.” Gaster gave a single, terse nod. The Arch-mage regarded him before shaking his head again. “Ah, Boy, you showed so much promise, and yet here you still are, weak and merciful. Such a disappointment.”

The Arch-mage did not say anything more, simply let himself out and walked away. Gaster unlocked Sans cage, gripping the monster’s soul in his magic-nullifying spell. Sans watched the doctor, wanting to say something but not knowing what to say. What could you say after all that? Should he comfort him, thank him for protecting him? Should he hate him, since like the Arch-mage said, he had done so much to hurt monsters with his magic and his experiments? But, everyone seemed to think that Gaster wasn’t as evil and cruel as the monsters believed. As Sans believed.

Were they all wrong? Was Sans wrong?

He didn’t know, he didn’t know anything for certain anymore. He knew that he was a monster, that he fought for his kind, but the Arch-mage had even ridiculed that. Sans did know to some extent just how badly monsters were losing the war, but he didn’t think it was pointless for monsters to fight. Was it? The Arch-mage hadn’t even been talking to him and Sans doubted most things he had believed in. He shuddered to think what spending years under someone like that would do to someone mentally. Then he stopped as he had the example right in front of him, leading him to watch a duel between two of the strongest human mages.

* * *

 

Gaster... was terrified. Under all the anger he felt at the Arch-mage for acting like the Arch-mage and at himself for losing his patience, he was terrified. None of his previous duels with the man had ended anything better than poorly. Now here he was, off to fight with him again, and this time he’ll be out of practice too. Lovely. This day just kept getting better.

_You just disappoint her._

Gaster brushed away the thought tiredly. He did not need those thoughts again. Those thoughts only brought anguish and heartache, and he was not ready to go back to the dark place they brought him. He had spent far too long in there already. He would just focus on his impending duel with the person he hated most in the world.

 _Such a disappointment_.

Gaster sighed, checking quickly to make sure Sans was actually following him since he hadn’t checked. The skeleton was there, looking confused and unhappy. Gaster sighed again, letting his legs take him down the familiar path to the magic training range.

He supposed he disappointed both of his parents, then.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I posted on the story’s blog what songs I listened to while writing this story. If you want to check them out, head over there, but I’ll warn you now they’re pretty depressing.  
> So here it is! Who here called the Arch-mage being Gaster’s father? I did foreshadow it some, but I could understand if you didn’t see it coming.  
> This is a shorter chapter, I know, but I’ll probably have the next out before too long so it’s okay. The one after that might take some time because, you know, fight scenes. On the bright side, I finally have everything pretty much figured out for this story! Or at least up until the point the barrier is created. After that it’s a little hazy, but I’ve got time. I know how I want the main scenes to play out and how they happen, so that’s all that matters, right? Right.  
> Thank you for all the feedback and positivity you’ve given me guys! It really means a lot!


	11. I Only Hate You More, Father

Adrian didn't know how long he laid there in the dark. He had tried to sleep a couple of times, but his soul was already brimming with too much magic from his nap earlier and wouldn't let him. So he was stuck in the dark, not caring enough to create a light source, thinking.

When the cellar door finally opened, he had some questions for the man that descended.

“How did you know where I lived?” Adrian asked as the man stepped onto the floor of his room. “How did you know my last name but not my first name? How do you know my family’s sign language?”

The Arch-mage arched an eyebrow at the boy. He didn't answer right away, apparently thinking how to respond to the child. “Think about everything you just told me. What does the evidence indicate?”

Adrian had already thought about it and responded readily, “You're some type of family friend, right?”

To his surprise, the Arch-mage actually laughed, although granted it was a short, mocking sound. “Just a friend, Boy?” Adrian frowned at him, the glow in his eyes from the pent up magic in his soul dimming some. At the boy's confusion, the Arch-mage sighed. “Tell me, Boy, what you think my surname is.”

“I don't know.” Adrian said, hands signing along with his words.

The Arch-mage rolled his eyes, signing in return. **Gaster.**

Adrian’s heart skipped a beat. In his shock, his voice failed him and he resorted to signing with shaking hands, **You're my-**

He couldn't sign the word, his hands were shaking too badly. He couldn't tell why, whether it was from shock or confusion or rage. The Arch-mage peered down, allowing the child a moment to gather his thoughts. Adrian sat, hands slack in his lap before he signed a single word. **How?**

The Arch-mage sighed, closing his eyes. Adrian had been waiting so long that the sunlight had turned to dark night, making the only sources of light their eyes. Even when the man closed his eyes, considering the question, Adrian could see a faint glow and knew where he was. Eventually, the Arch-mage’s eyes snapped open. “I will answer this question then you may not ask anymore questions for the next three days.” Adrian nodded, but the mage was already talking again and the boy realized it was a statement, not a question. “Some years ago- I’ve lost count of how many- I went to England to recruit some new students. While I was there I met your mother, a young, naive girl cast off from society for being mute. She had developed a sign language to communicate, and her brother was her only means of speaking to others. I saw her and was smitten. I spent some time with her, learning her language, before it was time for me to head back to Germany with my new pupils in tow. At her request, I brought her with me, and she lived in this house for a time. When my students and I were called to China for... help with diplomatic relations, I locked up my home and sent your mother off to her current dwelling with all of my research that I didn’t trust with anyone else. She must have been pregnant with you before we parted ways. I will admit, I am surprised she kept the last name though. I thought she would have hated me by now, but she kept the name...” The Arch-mage trailed off, brow furrowed slightly as some thought crossed his mind, but he shook it off, literally, bringing his focus back to his son. Adrian blinked at him, hands half-forming words as he started to ask questions then remembered he was not supposed to ask any questions. “Right, well, that takes care of that. Follow me.”

The Arch-mage began up the stairs, stopping and clearing his throat halfway up to get Adrian to spring into action. The boy jumped to his feet, silently following this ma- _his father-_ up the steps and along the side of the building.

His mind spun with the thought. _His father_. It had always just been him and his mother, and eventually Edgar when he entered the picture. But some days, Edgar wasn’t around or Adrian wasn’t given an opportunity to go to the woods and spend time with him. He could always count on his mother though, forever a constant in his life.

_Not anymore._

Adrian scowled, quickly banishing the thought as it threatened the fragile calm he had worked himself into. He set his thoughts back on track, mind drifting to the magic he had been studying all his life. He had always believed those tomes and notes were his mother’s, penned by her hand and kept around for him. But the Arch-mage had claimed them, they were his, notes he didn’t trust with anyone. But Mother. The one he must have loved.

Adrian recalled the few times his mother had spoken of his father. She had told him about a gallant man that looked so much like his son it was shocking. She told of a man intellectually gifted in all areas, but especially in magic. She always signed about him with a longing in her eyes, and for the rest of the day she would be melancholy, smiling and signing, but distant and thoughtful. Adrian hadn’t brought him up much, afraid of upsetting Mother, but he had asked what happened to him when he was younger. She said she didn’t know, but she always believed he would come back. He had promised her he would return.

“Why didn’t you come back?” Adrian blurted out, stopping.

The Arch-mage froze, but didn’t respond right away, obviously torn between telling the child the answer to his question and telling him that there were to be no more questions. He settled on the latter, whirling around with a scowl on his face. His eyes flashed brightly, menacing. “I said no more questions.”

Adrian was not ready to let the subject drop. “She loved you, she believed in you so much. She thought you were a great person, you were her _hero_ , she knew that you would come back, but you didn’t! You left her to rot, alone in that miserable cottage and shunned by the wor-”

The Arch-mage slapped him with enough force to send him spinning onto the ground. Once again, the mage had moved too quickly to even discern what was happening. Adrian looked up at his father’s anger with searching eyes, desperately trying to find that person his mother spoke so highly of. “I said no more questions.” He growled out, towering over the prone form of his son. “You speak out of turn again and you will _regret it_.”

Adrian gingerly brushed his fingers against his cheek as the Arch-mage spun back around, dark robes flaring out around him. His cheek stung horribly and he thought he might have a bruise in the morning from the strike. He slowly climbed to his feet, warily eyeing this man, this man who was not his father. He couldn’t be. Not even if he was a gifted mage or looked like his supposed son. His father was a good person, mother had told him as much. This man couldn’t be his father.

“Alright, Boy.” The Arch-mage stopped, spinning to watch the child. He had brought him behind the building to the edge of sandlot almost as big as the house it sat behind. Any traces of the rage he had previously shown was gone like it had never been. “Here we are. I need to assess your current level of skill. I have been told by the church that your knowledge and control of magic is exceptional for one your age, but I need to know exactly where to start. So, we are going to duel.”

Adrian frowned, scanning the patch of ground. While it was large, it was rather unassuming and actually messy compared to the rest of the house. Sand strayed from edges of the lot and dusted the pavement surrounding it, and the sand itself appeared ravaged, scorched in some places, cratered in others.

Adrian frowned, tentatively following the Arch-mage as he moved to stand near the middle. He pointed to a spot to the left. “Stand there.” Adrian obediently stood there. The Arch-mage moved away from him so that he was standing across from him, his eyes glowing brightly. “Prepare for battle, when I say begin, we will fight.” Adrian didn’t get a chance to respond, the Arch-mage was already saying, “Begin.”

Adrian was frozen for a tense second, unsure exactly what to do. He had spared before with Edgar, but those times had been friendly bouts to show off magic more than anything. The Arch-mage was not the person to mess around. He would relentlessly attack if Adrian let him, though he was apparently letting Adrian make the first move this time around. Adrian frowned uncertainly before finally summoning a sphere of green around him and waiting to see what the Arch-mage would do. The man hadn't moved except to cross his arms and tap his fingers. Adrian slowly sat down, crossing his arms in return even as his eyes flared brighter as he summoned some fireballs and threw them and the man experimentally. Like always, he dodged the attack in a movement too quick to track. Adrian’s mind whirled as he considered this. He would never be able to hit him if he continued to move so quickly, so he had to slow him down. His already green eyes swirled into a greenish brown as his purple magic flared to life; he summoned a dozen of his spectral hands, all of them glowing with a faint lavender hue. Trap magic was at it's strongest when channeled through runes, Adrian knew this from his studies, so without them his hands would only be able to slow him down, not stop him entirely. But that should be enough.

“Come now, Boy, I haven't all night.” The Arch-mage snapped irritably, eyes flashing. “If you're going to attack then do it!” If he thought the magic Adrian had made was impressive or even strange he didn't show it.

Adrian found himself scowling at this man, his soul switching into Battle. His phantom hands lunged forward, surrounding him, each one trying to get a grip on him. The Arch-mage’s agitation was replaced with something that looked more boredom. Adrian felt the man's soul flare in response before he saw his eyes glow brighter, and he felt something in his soul snap. He winced as the Arch-mage dispelled his hands with precise shots of magic energy.

Raw, potent, unstable, magic energy. Adrian had never considered the possibility. Instead of channelling the magic into a spell that would have taken more time in which his hands probably would have caught him, the Arch-mage had used simple, pure magic in return. Granted, raw magic energy was unstable and dangerous if used in great quantities, but the Arch-mage seemed to have the control to expend just enough for whatever he was trying to do and nothing more.

Adrian frowned as he considered this, but the Arch-mage was becoming impatient. “Show me something worthy of the church's praise!” He snapped, his eyes flaring blue. Adrian barely registered the ice in his soul before he was flung into the air. He yelped, eyes blazing green as he frantically summoned a shield beneath him. He landed hard on his side with the wind knocked out of him, but it was better than falling the other forty feet to the ground. He climbed to his feet with a groan, trying to get his thoughts into motion.

The Arch-mage didn't give him the chance. Adrian had as little forewarning as before as the man appeared in front of him and cloaked in a hue of blue. His angry eyes met his supposed son’s, and without hesitation shattered Adrian’s shield with another shot of magic. Adrian screamed as he fell this time, instinctively conjuring several more phantom hands to catch him. He didn't try to stop and think this time. If the Arch-mage wanted to be impatient and move inhumanly quickly, than Adrian would just have to be fast on the uptake.

First he would have to get back on the ground. He couldn't fly with blue magic like the Arch-mage, his spectral hands were too clumsy and uncoordinated for high-speed and complicated flight, but the ground was also still too far away to just drop down and the Arch-mage would most likely just bring him back up if he manage to get down.

Adrian smiled. If the Arch-mage wanted to see something impressive, he would show it to him. Adrian’s eyes took on their green again as he summoned another shield beneath himself, this one as big as the sandlot below. He dispelled his hands and dropped down, but didn't stop there. He constructed another shield above this one, another above that one, more and more above and below him, building walls and staircases in strange and complicated messes that would have simply fallen apart if it weren't magic. The Arch-mage peered down at the child from three stories up, his expression not changing in the slightest.

“I wanted to duel,” the man shouted, “not play mason. Fight me like you want to kill me!”

Adrian felt his eyes widen in shock. He hated the Arch-mage, he had taken away everything he loved, yet Adrian didn't want to kill him. Mother had always said that no matter what, murder was never acceptable, that it accomplished nothing, and only led to more violence and death.

The thoughts racing through his head must have been apparent for the Arch-mage sighed, at least Adrian thought he did, he couldn't hear, before shouting so that Adrian could hear him. “I will make a deal with you, Boy. If you ever manage to kill me in a duel, I'll arrange for you go back to your mother with enough gold to move far away from the reaches of the church and live comfortably wherever you decide to settle down. But only if you manage to kill me. So, attack me like you mean it!”

Adrian stared up at the Arch-mage, clenching his hands into fists. This man, this awful, cruel man had just taken _everything_ from him, but now he was giving him a chance to go back. Adrian glared up at this man who would have him believe he is his father, feeling a deep familiar sensation arouse itself in his soul.

Injustice, his soul seemed to scream. What this man had done to Adrian, what he had done to his mother, what he had done to all the people who worked here, all the people he had ever hurt was unforgivable. Their voices all cried one word- justice.

Adrian’s eyes flared a bright yellow like sunlight. He screamed, and it almost felt like all the people the Arch-mage had hurt screamed with him. The Arch-mage looked up to watch as a huge fireball grew in the air above him, hungry, twisting, righteous, yellow. Adrian released it, letting it fall down onto the earth to destroy this man. Of course, his spell couldn’t pass through his shields just as the Arch-mage’s couldn’t as long as the spell wasn’t anything strong enough to break it. This spell was definitely strong enough to break through his shields, but Adrian wanted to strike with a full-force blast. He left his shields up just long enough so that the Arch-mage was cornered in his maze and couldn’t escape with whatever trick he used to move inhumanly quickly. The Arch-mage could only watch as his deserved destruction rained down upon him.

Adrian descended his maze, jumping down onto the sandy ground below. He dispelled the rest of his shields, squinting in an attempt to see through the remaining magic particles as they fluttered down like sparkling ash. He expected to see a charred corpse plummet to the ground across from him. But nothing happened.

Adrian frowned, a sense of trepidation growing in his soul. Was that spell not strong enough? Was the Arch-mage still alive even after _that_? He flared his soul, trying to pinpoint the Arch-mage’s soul, but couldn’t feel anything. That meant he was either dead or was flying too far above for Adrian to sense. Adrian began to shuffle forward before stopping himself, his heart stopping cold in his chest. He spun around him, trying to see anything, but the particles obstructed his view. He was completely blind. If the Arch-mage was still alive, now would be the prime time to attack, and Adrian had served it to his enemy on a silver platter.

He futilely searched for the Arch-mage’s soul presence before his soul, determining there was no threat anymore, left Battle. Adrian gulped in a huge breath, lungs burning with energized air, as he strained his eyes.

In the end it didn’t matter what he did. He was turning this way and that one moment, slammed into the sandy ground the next. He would have cried out if all the air didn’t get knocked out of his lungs and he was left pushing against the green shield that now crushing him. His soul, already tired from the prolonged engagement, stiffly entered Battle again. The Arch-mage was on top of him, Adrian could sense him, though the only thing he could see was ground as he was crammed closer and closer to it. He heaved in a deep breath desperately, trying to get oxygen back in his lungs, trying to get the spots away from his eyes. It felt like the Arch-mage was actually going to crush him with a shield, a spell meant from protecting, not harming. That was if he didn’t suffocate first.

He felt terror strike through him at the thoughts. The Arch-mage might kill him.

Adrian couldn’t let that happen. It was more than just him, more than just his life on the line. If he wasn’t strong, if he didn’t survive, Mother would die. Mother who had always shown him such kindness, Mother who was all he had left in this world. And it would be his fault.

There was no air left for scream or else he would have. His eyes flared a yellow tinged with orange as he conjured an orange dagger. His magic naturally coated the blade, allowing the weak spell to easily slice through the Arch-mage’s spell as it fed off the man’s EXP and LV.

He distantly felt the Arch-mage jump back as his shield corroded away beneath him. Adrian gulped in another huge breath of cool night air as it hit him. He vision spun and danced with black spots as he slowly fed his oxygen-starved lungs, his soul exhaustedly left Battle again, unable to maintain the mode. Adrian pushed himself into a sitting position on shaking arms, wiping away the sand that clung to his face once he was up. The Arch-mage glowered down at him, the white glow of his eyes the same brightness as before the duel. Adrian’s eyes didn’t always glow, some days he had more magic in his soul than others, but his eyes had been glowing today. He had woken up with an ocean in his soul and now was left with only a puddle, and even that had grown smaller since using the weak orange spell. He had put everything into that attack, but the Arch-mage didn’t even look a little singed.

“Y-you tried to kill me,” Adrian mumbled, glaring up at the man.

The Arch-mage rolled his eyes. “I couldn’t have killed you with a green spell even if I wanted to. It’s all a matter of intent, you see. The intention of green magic is to heal and protect, and thus one can’t kill someone with green magic.”

“It felt like I was going to die.” Adrian muttered, looking away and rubbing his chest.

“You would have been close, at least.” The Arch-mage grumbled. “You would have been left at one HP if you hadn’t broken through my shield.”

Adrian nodded in understanding, clutching at his chest as the area above his soul began to ache. The ache turned into a throb, that turned into an awful burning that encompassed his entire body. He clawed at his chest, the origin of the fire in his limbs, but the pain only became worse. He hissed and screamed as tight arms wrapped around him, pounded at them to try to make them go away, to make them stop making the pain worse.

He stopped as a familiar soothing wave washed over his body as green magic went through its course. He blinked his eyes open, half-expecting Mother to be hugging him, telling him that he had just been having a bad fever dream and to go back to sleep. Instead, there was the healer from before withdrawing just as quickly as the last time he had healed him. He stepped behind the Arch-mage, head bowed. Adrian didn’t remember seeing him before, but with his dark skin and black doctor robes, he could have easily missed him in the darkness of the night.

“You idiot!” The Arch-mage roared, towering over Adrian’s form. “Don’t you know anything? You could seriously damage your soul by expending too much magic at once! What were you thinking?!”

Adrian stared in shocked silence at the unexpected rage from the man. The shock quickly turned into anger in return. “What was I thinking?” Adrian didn’t know where he found the strength to stand, but there he found himself, drawing himself up to his full height. Which was only up to the Arch-mage’s chest. “What was I thinking? I was thinking that you took everything from me! I hate you more than I’ve ever hated anything in the world! More than the church, more than the priests, more than the horrible people that lived in the town back home! You deserve to die alone and forgotten for everything you’ve done!”

The Arch-mage had lost his outraged expression at some point while Adrian was shouting and now just looked bored again. “I don’t really care what you were thinking actually.” He drawled, turning away. “I’m not sure why I asked. Just don’t do it again.”

Adrian clenched his hands into fists, opening his mouth to say more, but the Arch-mage beat him to it.

“You are underwhelming to say the least, Boy. I expected so much more, the way the church was going on and on about how you would be the next great mage, how you were already as good as some of the ones in the army now, how you would be so useful. Well, I’m still obligated to teach you, unfortunately. This is your first lesson.” The Arch-mage waved his hand. There was a sickening pop and the healer crumpled to the ground, dead. Adrian stared at the body, mind reeling. “If you lose when you’re out there on the battlefield, it is not only you that will die. All the people you are trying to protect will die along with you. Whenever you think of disobeying me in the future I want you to think of this moment Adrian Gaster.” Adrian’s eyes snapped to meet the mage’s as he used his name. “I am training you for the benefit of mankind and for the benefit of God. War brews on the horizon, and I will not have your incompetence getting innocent people killed. Remember this moment, Boy, and remember that it was your fault, and yours alone.” The Arch-mage began to walk away, leaving the body to lay in a heap on the sandy ground, glassy eyes staring unblinking at night sky above as the last of the magic particles drifted down. “Stay here. I will send a servant to bring you to the library. You will memorize them by the end of next week or face punishment.”

Adrian’s gaze slid down to the body again as the Arch-mage walked out of view. He would stand there, morbidly transfixed, until the servant came to take him away.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “This might have been the worst situation he's been in so far, but things could be worse. They could have already killed Mother, then where would he be?” Hahahaha, oh poor Adrian. He has no idea what I have in store for him.  
> Anyways, I’m going to post the song I listened to for this chapter on the story’s tumblr. I’m also going to post explanations of the different magic types, in case you’re curious or don’t want to wait around for the story to eventually tell you (if it does, cause I’m not sure if it will just explain it outright).  
> I can’t wait until we get to the chapter where this entire story started. Because, guys, it was so random. Like, it will be awhile until we reach that chapter, but it’s so dumb how this story started. Anyways, thanks to everybody who has given feedback, I really appreciate it guys!


	12. Dammit It Happened Again

Sans struggled to keep up with the long strides of Gaster as he walked through the camp. The doctor had never been particularly considerate of the skeleton’s needs, but he would usually slow down a little so Sans could keep up. Now, though, the man seemed too lost in his thoughts to remember he was being tailed by the short skeleton. As much as Sans wanted to say something, it would probably just upset the human more or the humans all around him that were giving murderous looks. So he clamped his jaw shut, bowed his head, and ran to keep up with the doctor.

Gaster left the camp without any hassle this time, the pale-faced guards not saying anything and keeping their heads down. Seemed the Arch-mage had already spoken to them.

The short walk to the practice range passed in the blink of an eye and Sans found himself standing behind Gaster as the man stared down the Arch-mage. The Arch-mage, for his part, couldn't have looked more disinterested if he tried. He waved his hand in the way he did, and instantly the caked sand became dry and free once again. All the water pulled into a sphere above the lot and was cast off to the side unceremoniously, landing with a crash in the grass. The Arch-mage stepped forward to stand near the middle of the lot, and Gaster did likewise. Sans took several steps back, settling down once he had to watch the fight.

The Arch-mage said, “Begin.”

Too many things began happening at once, Sans could barely follow. Their souls flared with magic that Sans could just barely feel through the tarp on his soul. Gaster’s eyes flared green as the ground of the sandlot gave way to blocks of green magic that rose and fell in unpredictable patterns. He summoned four green bubbles around himself, the one on the outside skinniest and the rest slowly becoming thicker. The Arch-mage had likewise summoned a green bubble around himself, a single incredibly thick one. He launched into the air, ringed in a halo of blue. With a start Sans realized he was flying with his blue magic. Not even he had the kind of control required for that, magic used on yourself was too unstable.

Not once did they stop moving. Gaster darted about as his blocks rose and fell to his whim, a master of the ground. The Arch-mage zipped back and forth in the air as the wind around him began to pick up and dark clouds began to form.

Gaster attacked first, before the Arch-mage conjured up a suitable storm. Chains of purple magic shot up from all around while purple spears tinged with yellow rained down from above. The Arch-mage scowled slightly as he successfully dodged most of them, though a few did bounce off his shield. Sans grinned, waiting for the shield to be eaten away by Gaster’s Karmic Retribution. His grin slipped away to a frown a moment later when it wasn't, and continued to block attacks.

Gaster’s soul was yellow, wasn't it? If it was, he should have the Justice ability. But even though his attacks had yellow supporting them, no Karmic Poisoning was apparent. Had Sans been wrong about the doctor's soul type? No, as he watched he could see where the tips of the spears and the chains tapped the shield. He could see the shield start to erode, then stop and repair itself. Was that the Arch-mage’s doing? He shouldn't be able to resist the Poison, but he was anyways. Or maybe it wasn't the Arch-mage; maybe it was Gaster. If he was too unsynced with his soul type, not only could he lose HP, but he could lose access to his ability. It was rare among monsters, but not unheard of.

Sans’ attention snapped back to the battle as thunder rumbled overhead. It was the Arch-mage’s turn to attack, and he did with brutal intensity. Lightning struck at Gaster’s shield with frightening accuracy. Sans yelped, scrambling out of the way as the attack spun at an odd angle, reflecting off the doctor's shield. Sans squinted at the man’s shield, abruptly noticing how each layer was connected to each other and each was spinning in different directions. The shields would support each other and reflect attacks. The accuracy of those attacks might not be the greatest but it was something to be wary of, at least.

The Arch-mage paused his onslaught as he had to concentrate not only on dodging Gaster’s attacks but his own directed back at him. Gaster took that moment to summon a small army of spectral hands, each one carrying an orange weapon of some sort, whether it be a sword, mace, club, axe, or some even carried longs katanas and heavy claymores. Magic hands weren't restricted by weight, after all, only what would fit in their palms. They rushed at the Arch-mage, weapons primed.

“Sans!” Lytle’s voice from behind. He ignored her, watching the battle intently. The Arch-mage roared, his shield expanding outward and colliding with Gaster’s magic, shattering the spells. Gaster flinched as the magic particles from his spells drifted down, his eyes abruptly losing their other colors and resorting to the green of his still shifting ground.

“Sans, what's going on? Is Gaster fighting someone?” Lytle appeared beside him, hair whipping around her face as the Arch-mage’s magic blustered around them.

“The Arch-mage!” Sans shouted back, trying to be heard over the fight. He didn't bother looking over, his gazed transfixed on the battle, so he didn't see Lytle’s reaction. Suddenly, he felt the human's hands wrap around his arm as she began dragging him away. “What are you doing?” Sans snapped, ripping his limb from her grasp. “I'm trying to watch!”

“No, Sans, you don't understand!” Lytle shouted, her eyes wide with fright. “This is going to get really dangerous really fast. We need to get out of here!”

A resounding crack to their left brought their gazes back to the battle. The Arch-mage had begun attacking with lightning again, and this time shards of ice speared down from the summoned clouds above. Gaster dodged as best he could, but the lightning was too fast and kept reflecting off his shield. Lytle and Sans dove out of the way of the magic, covering their heads as if that might offer some protection. Sans peeked out just in time to see Gaster summon more hands that reached out and grabbed shards of ice as they fell, throwing them back at the Arch-mage. It was child's play for the Arch-mage to dodge them, but it did take some of his attention away from attacking.

Sans felt the blanket on his soul melt away as Gaster focused on the battle and left the skeleton to his own devices. Sans hurriedly summoned a green shield over him and Lytle. The healer sat up in awe, tentatively tapping the magic. She glanced at him, taking in his glowing green sockets.

“This is yours?” Lytle asked, voice still loud as she tried to adjust to the new noise level. Sans’ shield wasn't very thick compared to those of the mages fighting outside, but it did block enough of the sound of the battle.

“Yeah.” Sans said, settling back again to watch safely. “What are you doing here? How'd you find us?”

Lytle bit her lip, gazing at the shield as if gauging how well it would do against a stray strike, before raising an eyebrow at the skeleton. “Are you kidding me? It's kind of hard to miss an entire bloody thundercloud just appearing during the middle of the day.”

“Oh.” Sans said a moment later as he belatedly processed the information. Gaster was steadily working the Arch-mage toward the ground with his purple attacks and slowly chipping away at his shield. The Arch-mage was no slacker either, hitting Gaster from every angle with ice, lightning, and now he had added some fireballs to his array of attacks. “Okay.”

“I went to the lab looking for Gaster because he was supposed to teach me some magic, but he wasn't there and you weren't there and I thought that maybe you were going to be...” Lytle trailed off, sniffing harshly.

Sans tore his attention from the battle, looking at the healer in concern. “I'm fine, Lytle. The Arch-mage just had Gaster bring me along to watch. So I take it you and Gaster made up?”

“Yeah,” Lytle said, wringing her hands. “Sans, I'm worried about this fight.”

“Why? Look, Gaster is winning!” As much as Sans didn't like Gaster, he was starting to doubt whether or not he truly had ill intentions. And besides, no matter how he felt about Gaster, the feelings were multiplied several times against the Arch-mage. He could wish a death by burning on the stake onto this man and not feel even a little bad about it.

Just as the words left his mouth, Sans regretted saying them. In that instant, the Arch-mage released the spell he had been building up. The wind turned from a noisy nuisance to a full out deadly force. It swirled around and around, picking up all the sand, ripping up grass and dirt,  sweeping away Gaster and all of his magic. The doctor was tossed all about in his shields as the Arch-mage’s spell blew him around and around. The Arch-mage was suspended in the middle of it all, grinning cruelly. Fire rippled out from him, entering the storm and instantly turning it into a spiral of hungry, red fire. Even through the shield and his own insensitivity to temperature, Sans shrank back from the heat. Lytle hissed, scooting back until her back was pressed against the back of Sans’ half bubble.

Sans couldn't see what was happening anymore, but he could feel it. Inside the storm, Gaster’s soul swelled. He wasn't out of the fight yet.

* * *

 

Gaster sighed as his bubble was engulfed in flames, nursing several bumps and soon-to-be bruises. He should have seen that coming, after all, he had sparred with this man enough times to know which spell combos he favored. The moment the wind had moved past annoying and becoming stumbling, he should have expected this and rooted himself down. But no, he had kept attacking when he saw the Arch-mage approaching the ground. Though he had tried, Gaster had never managed the kind of control required for blue flight. In its place he had learned how to stay on the ground and bring his opponents down to his level. Not that he had ever successfully done it against the Arch-mage. Still, the Arch-mage knew never to set foot on the ground for Gaster had too many traps to count to keep him there, and Gaster knew to never enter the air otherwise he would basically be at the Arch-mage’s mercy.

Well, too late for that. Time to try something else. First, Gaster had to escape the fire still eating at his shields. It had broken through the first on and was working its way through the second. Gaster expanded his second shield, giving himself room to work. He steadily started building up magic in that space for when the fire broke through the second shield while strengthening the durability of the last two layers with yellow magic.

It was time to wait.

* * *

 

Sans frowned as he felt more and more magic building up inside, which didn’t make any sense. He should feel more magic being used, not magic powering up. What was Gaster thinking? If he didn’t do something fast, that fire would eat up his shields and burn him to a crisp. It was a struggle to maintain his own shields, and the fire wasn’t even directly touching it!

“What’s going on?” Lytle hissed, wiping her forehead as sweat accumulated. She couldn’t sense their souls after all, she wasn’t a monster or a freak like Gaster. “Where’s Gaster?”

“He’s in that,” Sans paused as he tried to find a word to encompass the awful majesty of the spell, “thing.”

She gawked at the fiery storm. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope.”

“Is he alive?”

“Yeah,” Sans replied, “Though I’m not entirely sure what he’s doing in there. Or what he possibly could do to combat that.”

Lytle frowned, gathering her hair from her the nape of her neck and pulling it in front of her shoulder. “Do you think he’ll be okay?”

“I don’t know. He’s preparing something big, I just don’t know what.” Sans squinted his sockets, searching within the swirling flames for a visual hint of what might be going on, but nothing revealed itself. Inside, the magic inside never stopped building, never stopped growing. Sans’ frowned, wondering if he should be doing more. His soul swarmed with magic, after all, and Gaster seemed like he needed help. Then again, if he intervened he could definitely count on the Arch-mage killing him. It was probably best if he just stayed here with Lytle and kept her safe.

He would just have to settle down and wait.

* * *

 

Gaster curled up in his shields as the storm continued to toss him around haphazardly, waiting as patiently as he could. He knew that although this would work, the Arch-mage hadn’t been sitting idle while he could feel Gaster preparing an attack. He vaguely sensed the man laying traps and strengthening his defenses to counter whatever spell the doctor had in store.

Good thing Gaster had always kept some items in the back.

The moment the fire broke through his outermost shield, his spell unleashed itself, a dark purple wind that roared all around. It wrapped up the Arch-mage’s storm and snatching it from his control, turning the storm from red to lavender as it became trapped by Gaster’s spell.

Gaster had to make spells for the human army, this much was true. So long as he met the quota each week, he didn’t have to give them _all_ the spells he made. After all, they never asked for the extras, so he never felt compelled to hand them over. This was one such spell. A kind of trap magic that targeted an enemy's spell rather than the enemy, granting you control over whatever spells the wind swept up. Lucky for Gaster, it didn’t just make the Arch-mage’s storm turn traitorous, but all the trap runes he had set up on the ground below them.

The Arch-mage glared up at the doctor from the ground below for one moment before the entire sandlot went up in flames. Gaster summoned a flat shield below himself to watch, as the storm no longer affected carried him inside it. Sparkling orange magic particles rained down from all around, and Gaster felt the Arch-mage’s soul draw away a bit. Gaster couldn’t help but smirk; the man had not escaped unscathed.

The doctor created a green half bubble to cover the ground before dropping the shield below him and plummeting to the ground. He caught himself with a net of hands before he hit the ground, releasing them once they had slowed his fall to a tolerable speed. He snapped his fingers and a small gust blew across the field, carrying away all the particles in the air so he could see.

The sandlot had been rendered just short of charred, black earth, or what was left of it anyways. Most of the sand had been blown away to reveal the hard stone below, and much of that had been scorched by the explosions. The Arch-mage stood among the wreckage, straightening his singed purple robes and fixing the cuffs.

Gaster splayed out his hands, giving his mentor no reprieve. If he could kill this man, he could go back home. The deal still stood, and Gaster was never going to hesitate again. He etched dozens of traps into the ground, and summoned dozens of floating green bubbles with traps on them. He strengthened the bubble above with yellow magic while summoning more spectral hands, these ones with holes in their palms. The Arch-mage had never seen this type of hand before, and didn't know what to expect. Gaster wasted no time in sending them forward, the air buzzing with magic energy as each one drew in magic and magic particles from the surrounding air, firing pure magic bolts at the Arch-mage. The Arch-mage responded quickly, darting this way and that all while remaining conscious of where he put his feet and where the green bubbles were overhead. Gaster may have had a hard time tracking his mentor’s extraordinary Time Warp when he was younger, but so much exposure to it had sharpened his senses. His Patience was no match for Gaster now. Gaster precise aim soon had him stepping into traps as he tried to avoid the bolts, assaulting his shields with piercing purple magic that steadily broke through them. The Arch-mage could do nothing, the ground was not safe, what he could reach of the air was filled with traps, and his defenses were quickly weakening.

Gaster might actually win. His soul swelled at the thought, and he increased the caliber of his attacks.

The Arch-mage roared, a furious, frustrated sound that ripped over the sound of magic gathering and firing. His eyes burned turquoise as he summoned a long spear of light blue magic, thrusting it at his son. Gaster tried to stop it with a couple attacks but it zipped around them to burrow its way through his shields and into his chest.

Gaster froze as the magic punctured his soul, gasping. Light blue magic was not attack magic, not defense, not augmentation- it was a magic, much like blue magic, that affected the soul directly. That targeted the emotions.

Gaster choked back a sob as crushing sorrow and hopelessness encroached his soul. Oh God, he couldn't go through this again. Light blue attacks only worked on emotions already present in the soul, emotions he had already lived through for so long. He could never beat the Arch-mage. He would never get home, never see his mother again. He would do as the church wished, make magic, fight if they needed it, kill if he had to. He didn't have a choice. He never had a choice that was better than what he had. He would be responsible for the death of scores of monsters, but at least his mother would live. At least he was protecting the lives of innocent humans, if there were such a thing.

His magic faded away as his concentration did, leaving him completely defenseless as he sunk down onto his knees. Part of his mind was screaming for him to get up, to fight, and to keep trying. But the other part, the louder part that seemed so very sincere, told him there was no point. Nothing he did would ever have any point. His life was not his own, and when he died he would be forgotten by the world, an insignificant detail in the grand scheme of human cruelty.

Panting, the Arch-mage stopped, straightening slowly. He took his time strolling across the ravaged ground, purple robes billowing behind him. He was taller than Gaster while the doctor was kneeling, head bowed, and mind racing with thoughts that had plagued him for years.

The Arch-mage regarded the broken boy for several long seconds, though Gaster was hardly paying attention to him.

 _You're such a failure._ The thoughts hissed. Gaster could only squeeze his eyes as the voices in his head picked at him again. The same voices that had ridiculed him after every mistake, belittled him after every victory, kept him up at night, and sometimes just insulted him to remind him they were there. He was such a fool to believe he might have ever escape them, just as he was a fool to believe he might ever escape the Arch-mage. He dug his fingers into the sides of his skull as they swarmed him, each promising what they said was true.

_You're so pathetic._

_You're so weak._

_You're such a disappointment._

_You can't do anything right._

_You deserve to die._

_You'll kill her._

_You don't deserve her._

Gaster looked up as he felt the Arch-mage lay his hand on his shoulder. White glowing eyes met white glowing eyes. “I win again, Boy. Nothing ever changes. What a disappointment.”

Gaster’s hand twitched as he thought of maybe defending himself before deciding it wasn't worth the effort. The Arch-mage tsked, summoning an orange spear and running the doctor through.

* * *

 

“Oh my God.” Lytle and Sans watched the exchange in shock, Lytle nicely verbalizing what Sans was thinking.

The Arch-mage pulled his weapon from the doctor's stomach, blood flicking away and dripping from the weapon before he dispelled it and the dark red liquid dropped to stain the stone. He stood looking down at Gaster for a moment before the doctor toppled over, blood streaming from his mouth and wound.

“Bloody hell.” Lytle cursed, scrambling to her feet, but was stopped by Sans’ shield. “Sans, your shield!”

The skeleton tore his gaze from the form on the ground to the frantic healer on his right. Hr blinked, his mind spinning as he processed what had just transpired. He jumped to his feet, lowering the shield and following Lytle as she pelted to Gaster.

The Arch-mage watched impassively as the healer slid to her knees, eyes flaring green and hands reaching for the scientist. He looked up when Sans skidded to a stop beside her, cocking his head. The skeleton found himself shuddering under his gaze again, but refused to back down. The Arch-mage suddenly smiled, and faster than Sans could react slammed a light blue dagger into a space between his ribs and into the monster's soul.

Sans knew what light blue magic did. It worked off his emotions as much as the caster’s magical ability, amplifying whichever emotions the caster chose. For Sans, the Arch-mage had apparently decided to amplify the monster's despair, probably just as he did with Gaster. Sans felt stinging tears form at the corners of his sockets as the emotion set in, merciless and unrelenting. It was pointless, all of it. Lytle would never find a way out of this hell, she would probably turn on him at some point just as her race demanded. He would never get to go home and see his mother again. He might as well die now.

It was a struggle to stop his HP points from decreasing. He fought past the emotions, clinging onto what he knew rather than what the emotions told him. He had a chance, he just had to keep holding on. He had nothing else but his hope, and he was determined to keep that.

He glared at the Arch-mage as he turned to Lytle. “Be careful, girl. The church has its eye on you, and so far it doesn't like what it's seeing. Don't screw up. My son is quite fond of you, and it would be bothersome if he lost any HP due to your death. The church is already annoyed by how low it is.”

Lytle scowled, opening her mouth to say something, but the Arch-mage just turned and walked away. Lytle’s expression only darkened further, her hands curling into fists on Gaster’s chest. Sans looked away awkwardly as she spat several uncomplimentary sounding phrases in English. She quieted after several long minutes, breathing heavily as her green eyes brimmed with tears.

“Did he say son?” Sans asked, his voice detached and his sockets black.

Lytle didn't look up. “Yes, and you better not give Gaster a hard time about it, Sans. I think he had a hard enough time with it already.”

Sans slowly let out the breath he was holding, closing his sockets. “You're right, you're right. Is he going to be okay?”

Lytle bit her lip, her hands loosening on top of the man's chest. “I don't know.”

“What?” Sans furrowed his brow bone in concern, kneeling down beside Gaster opposite of Lytle. “How can you not know?”

Lytle’s hands tightened again until her knuckles turned white. She silently showed him Gaster’s HP points; they were at forty and slowly declining. Then she moved a hand from his chest to show him the wound the Arch-mage had inflicted. It was wicked, a harsh, jagged gash, but it was rapidly closing as green magic worked on it.

Sans frowned in confusion. “So his wound is closing, but he's still losing HP? Why?”

Lytle shook her head. “I don't know. This has never happened before, in my experience at least. But his soul feels weird.”

“Weird? How so?” Sans asked, keeping any hint of skepticism out of his voice.

Lytle made an exasperated grunt. “I have no idea, Sans! It just doesn't feel right.”

Sans bit his metaphorical tongue, staring at the numbers above the doctor's soul. He sat for a moment, glancing at Lytle, but she wasn't paying him any attention. He quietly flicked on his Eye, gazing into the doctor's soul.

There was so much darkness. It surrounded Sans, filled his skull, his rib cage,  engulfed him its vastness. Sans thought this must be what is was like to drown, to choke and feel like you're dying, to be unable to get even one breath in.

Something amidst all the darkness caught his eye, a soft twinkle. As Sans watched, it drew closer and the darkness retreated a bit. Inside was a young, smiling child reading a giant book. A child, Sans realized when he saw the glowing white eyes, was Gaster. The child put the book down as a dark-haired woman approached, scooping the child into her arms as he squealed with delight.

Another speck flitted closer, and inside he found the woman and the child outside in the woods. She was signing in that strange language Gaster knew, and the child watched attentively, holding a plant. Sans realized with a start that this woman must be the doctor's mother.

Another speck. They were sitting under a starry sky, the woman holding the child in her lap and pointing out constellations. Another flicker and they were watching a stunning sunset that looked like the sky was on fire.

Another speck came, and this one had events that were more recent. Gaster was an adult in these ones, and he had begun his experiments on monsters. Sans watched as the human grew close to the monsters he worked on, talking with them, feeding them, protecting them from harm. Sans watched as the monsters changed over time, reminding the skeleton that these monsters still died.

More specks came closer, these ones burning a bit brighter than the others. Lytle handing him breakfast. Lytle puzzling over the coded message and talking to the doctor. Gaster talking to the drunk healer, revealing all the horror, all the darkness he had experienced.

Sans stopped as something caught his attention in the side of his vision. He turned just in time to see a speck of light vanish. All around him, the lights were disappearing one by one until there were only a few left.

Sans had been wondering what was going on. After all, nothing like this had ever happened when he looked in someone's soul, but now he understood. He was watching the doctor lose Hope.

He withdrew from the man's soul then, finding the cause for the phenomenon Lytle was stressing over. The healer was still desperately trying to heal the doctor as his HP headed toward the single digits, hands trembling. Sans gently grasped her hands, pulling them away.

“W-what are you doing? Let go of me, Sans, I have to heal him!” Lytle weakly struggled against the skeleton’s grasp, but she has spent too much energy already to escape.

“Gaster is losing Hope, Lytle. Look.” Sans motioned with his head to the doctor's HP bar. Now that green magic wasn't being shoved down his throat, Gaster’s max HP points dropped, but his current HP stopped falling.

Lytle bit a quivering lip at the numbers displayed. 18/27.

“Oh God,” Lytle said breathlessly, “what did the Arch-mage do to him?”

Sans released the girl's hands and they fell limply to rest at her sides. “He attacked him with light blue magic.” Sans quickly explained how the magic worked, adding, “That man's magic was especially strong because that's the base of his soul.”

Lytle pursed her lips, absorbing the information. She let out a sigh, slowly climbing to her feet. “Well, we can't leave him out here. Come on, you get the legs.”

“I could just carry him back with magic, you know.” Sans said, following suit and standing.

“Well, you could,” Lytle said, putring her hands on her hips, “but I think the soldiers back at the camp would maul you like wild bears.”

“Oh,” Sans replied lamely as the healer lifted up Gaster’s torso, wrapping her arms around his armpits, “Forgot about that part.”

Lytle smiled slightly, motioning to Gaster’s legs. Sans obediently lifted them up, and together they shuffled their way back to camp. Lytle had done well in healing Gaster’s wound, at least; the edges of the gash were bright pink and the rest had scabbed over. Sans focused on the movement of his feet and definitely not all the humans around that looked like they might actually kill him. Only a couple actually said anything, though, and Lytle quickly silenced them with a dark look.

Sans found himself recognizing the path they were taking. “Lytle,” he hissed, causing the healer to turn from looking over her shoulder and stop, “where are we going?”

“Gaster’s lab.” she said as if that was the obvious answer. “Why?”

“There's no bed in there.” Sans replied, shifting Gaster’s weight slightly. The look people gave them as they passed as turned from hatred to bewilderment.

Lytle blinked. “Does Gaster even have a bed?”

“Well, he has to sleep sometime.” Sans said, exasperated. “Don't you know where he lives?”

“I thought he lived at his lab.” Sans gave the healer a look. “I'm sorry! I've never seen him anywhere else, really.”

Sans sighed. “I guess we take him to the lab, then.” Lytle pursed her lips, looking away as her face turned red. They arrived at the lab shortly to find an agitated soldier pacing in front of the building. He looked up as they stopped in front, blanching at their package. Sans thought he looked familiar, and he realized it was the man that had brought Gaster to meet the skeleton on the first night.

“God, what happened?” The man asked, drawing closer and opening the door to the lab.

“The Arch-mage.” Lytle replied tersely, helping Sans bring the doctor inside.

The captain eyed Sans as he passed, but didn't say anything to the monster. That's right, the man still didn't know the monster spoke English. Sans figured Gaster thought this would safeguard the monster, so he would keep his mouth shut this time around.

“I know the where Gaster’s quarters are, if you would like me to take him there.” The captain offered, crossing his arms.

“You do? Yes, I think that would be best.” Lytle said, sweat trickling down the side of her face.

“Very well, then.” The captain splayed his hands out in front of him, brows furrowed in concentration. His eyes slowly bled into a dark blue color as he lifted the doctor with weak blue magic. Lytle stepped back, pulling back her arms, and Sans let go of Gaster’s legs. Sans had no muscles to get tired, but the same could not be same for Lytle as she began rubbing sore arms.

The captain left, precariously pulling Gaster along behind him with his magic. Gaster, for his part, had not stirred once during the entire ordeal, his face stuck in a contort of pain. Lytle shared a look with Sans before they followed after the soldier. The entourage only received more confused looks, but at least Lytle made it a point to walk behind the skeleton so no one would try doing something to him.

The captain glanced back, grunting at the sight that greeted him. “Should you really be bringing the _monster_ with you?”

Lytle was quiet for a moment before saying, “Gaster would not want me to leave him alone, since in his current state there is no one dampening his magic.”

“I see.” If the captain thought there was even a grain of untruth in the statement, he did not express it. “Then keep him close. I would offer to keep an eye on it, but if the doctor wants you to do it then I'll keep my mouth shut. Lord knows he would become angry because I tried to show a lady some chivalry.”

“The sentiment is appreciated, captain, but I believe you are right. I'll look after the monster, don't worry.” Sans glanced at Lytle once the captain had his attention focused anywhere but them. Her gaze was frighteningly vacant, her feet dragging as she walked. Sans turned back around, but kept a socket on the healer as they trekked the rest of the way to Gaster’s quarters. The captain led them into a tiny, unassuming building that might have once been a peasant’s shack. The captain set the doctor on his bed, a straw cushion too short for the man's lanky form, and turned to regard Lytle.

“Look after him and inform me when he's ready to begin working again.” He said, clasping his hands behind his back. “I will inform the Duke not to expect a new spell this upcoming week, but I will need to know when he is fit again. Good day, cleric.” The captain took his leave, closing the door behind him softly.

Sans caught Lytle as her sways turned into a head first tumble. He looked around as the healer grasped onto him, but there were no chairs in the room, the bed the only furniture present. He led her to the wall and helped her sit against it. She sighed, muttering, “Thanks, Sans. I think I overdid it a bit. Would you look after Gaster for a little while?”

Before he could utter a response, she was asleep, her chin sunk down to rest on her chest. Sans smirked, and moved away to let the girl rest.

Sans found himself standing next to Gaster, watching the doctor's chest shallowly rise and fall. The thoughts crept back like ghosts of the past, whispering in his skull.

_You'll never escape, Sans. The Arch-mage is too strong. You only have one chance to make your death meaningful. This is it. An opportunity like this will not present itself again._

Sans stared at the doctor's face, hands twitching. The doctor was the one responsible for why he was here, why he was going to die. He and his magic were responsible for the deaths of countless of monsters, some of them the skeleton's friends. He deserved to die for what he had done. If he didn't, he would only make more magic, cause so many more to die.

This was all Sans could do. He had to do this. He raised his hand, summoning an orange dagger. With how low the human's HP was, it would only take one strike to end his life. Sans might even be able to take the human's soul and become more powerful than imaginable. He might even be able to escape then, though he still doubted it.

_“‘I don’t think Gaster is evil.’”_

_“‘He’s rough around the edges, but that’s only because he doesn’t get out much. He is a good person.’”_

_“‘You’ve heard the rumors going around. That you’ve been meeting with monster spies.’”_

Then there was what Sans saw inside the man’s soul. Inside that darkness where so little light survived. It wasn’t the darkness that Sans was accustomed to seeing in humans, the hungry, gnashing darkness that strove to consume the world around it. It was a soft, clinging darkness. It was the darkness that Sans was becoming more familiar with. Despair. Hopelessness. Hatred, mostly for yourself. The deep-seated desire to just be happy, but not daring to be selfish enough for that to happen. The horrible, aching, desperate hope to die because the pain might stop then.

Sans couldn't do it. The weapon dissipated, sparkling apart into magic particles. Tears pricked at the corners of his sockets, his hands curled into fists. He couldn't do it. He couldn't bring himself to kill a defenseless man who had only gotten the short end of the stick all his life, who had so few lights in his life, who hated what he was and what he was doing.

If only Sans’ LV was higher! He might have been strong enough then, strong enough to do what needed to be done. Did he want his mother to die? His father, his _baby brother_? Of course he didn't, but killing Gaster didn't seem like the way to keep that from happening. Or maybe he was just making excuses for himself.

Whatever the case,  Sans couldn't kill the doctor. He shuffled away, sliding down the wall and sitting next to the door. He buried his head in his arms and wept. Escape was within his reach, but Sans couldn't, _wouldn't,_ grasp onto it. He would just be stuck here until he died.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know what happened guys. I just... wrote. And wrote. Literally the majority of my free time I just decided to write. Yeah, the chapter could be better, and one day I might be able to write a good fight scene. But I actually liked how this came out so I’ll keep it and post it.  
> As a sidenote, if you checked the tumblr, I said light blue magic didn’t do much, which was a filthy lie, I just couldn’t remember what I had decided to make it do. So apologies for that, but, uh, surprise!  
> Also, if you didn’t put it together, Lytle remembers what Gaster talked to her about. Just so you know.  
> Should I do chapter titles? I mean, I could, I just never really thought about it before. But it would give you guys more of an idea of what was about to go down. Eh.


	13. They're Just Dreams(?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a chapter to celebrate the first day of summer (for me anyways, I don't know about you guys)! It came out a little rushed, but I wanted to get it out now before I go to a bunch of graduation parties for all my senior friends. Without further ado, some angsty Gaster to kick off the summer!

Gaster opened his eyes blearily, groaning at the sight that met him. The blue sky overhead, the green grass blanketing the the hillside and the valley below with its human army preparing for war.

Gaster did not want to deal with this right now.

He couldn't say he really cared at this point if this was real or a dream, either way he wanted nothing to do with it. He was just so tired. He just wanted everything to stop.

He watched the monster run and the humans chase it. He watched the scene unfold before him for the third time, wondering if he should bother intervening this time. What did it matter? The monster would probably die anyways; Gaster seemed to make that happen to most beings he encountered, human or monster.

He gave a world-weary sigh, running a hand down his face. No, no, he couldn't think like that, he couldn't go down that dark path again. He waited until the men had surrounded the monster before lifting the creature up and away with a flick of blue magic. The men looked up, completely bewildered, blanching when they saw Gaster and running off. Gaster didn't care enough to wonder why the humans appeared so terrified of him, didn't care enough to acknowledge the monster as he thanked him and blessed him for saving him. He just waited until the dream faded.

When he opened his eyes, he couldn't see anything. The logical part of his brain said he was somewhere, probably his room, recovering from the wound the Arch-mage had inflicted on him. The other part of his brain was screaming, panic welling up inside the doctor. He hissed, scrambling to a sitting position and pulling his legs to his chest. He stomach protested at the movement, and Gaster thought he felt something rip, but he ignored it. He couldn't see anything, he couldn't sense anything through the thin film his soul had put up while he was sleeping.

He couldn't afford that, that sloppiness, that lack of control that left him completely blind, completely exposed. _What if the Arch-mage had put something out there?_

Gaster froze, heart beating like a galloping horse in his chest. Something was moving somewhere to his left, he couldn't see it but he could hear it, something stirring in the dark.

Two white pinpricks gazed up at him, curious.

Panic gripped the doctor, and he buried his head in his arms, trying to pull magic out of his exhausted soul, trying anything to spare him from whatever horrible beast the Arch-mage had decided to subject him to this time.

“Gaster? Are you alright?” There was a slight pause, and a ball of light was summoned to float between the skeleton who had spoken and the terrified doctor. Gaster stared at the monster, taking in his stark white bones and ragged clothes. He let out a shaky breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, but did not relax at all.

“Yes.” Gaster said carefully, his voice hoarse. He glanced around, confirming they were in his sparse room. His heart still beat furiously as memories of his training played in the back of his head. “What happened?”

“Uh,” Sans rubbed the back of his head, apparently picking his words carefully, “The Prick in Purple stabbed you through the stomach with an orange weapon, Lytle healed you as best she could, and we brought you back here.”

Gaster nodded, swallowing hard in an attempt to calm the emotions still roiling inside him. “Where is she?”

Sans gawked at the human. “You're kidding.”

Gaster cocked his head at the skeleton. “Excuse me?”

“Your dad just tried to kill you and you're like ‘eh, no big deal, how are you guys?’” Sans shook his head in disbelief. “You used up so much magic in that fight you're eyes aren't even glowing anymore!”

Gaster unconsciously reached a hand up to his face. He knew his magic had been low and his soul exhausted from the constant state of Battle and the fight, but he hadn’t thought it had been _that_ bad. “Yes, well, it is nothing out of the ordinary. I’ve survived worse.”

Instead of calming him, Sans seemed even more appalled by the statement. “Like what?”

Gaster let out a tense sigh, thinking if a suitable example. “There was a time I was disobedient and he had me whipped within an inch of my life, healed, then whipped again, repeatedly. Honestly, I’m surprised that I didn’t lose all my HP in one go that time, it felt like I was going to lose my mind.”

He refocused his gaze on the skeleton in front of him as the memory faded, finding himself slowly relaxing as the terror and panic passed. Sans was even more horrified, shaking his head and turning away.

“Is that what humans are like? Is that what they do to each other?” Gaster didn't say anything, but he didn't need to. The skeleton shook his head. “That's awful. Why would you ever put yourself through that? Why did you stay?”

Gaster looked away. He wanted to say it was because he couldn't bear to lose his mother, to know that the woman who had birthed and raised him was dead because of him, but that hadn't been enough during his years with the Arch-mage, that hadn't been enough to sate the hatred and resentment that had brewed inside him. He loved his mother dearly and never wanted to see her get hurt, but when he was a teenager he had grown to resent her for leaving him there, hated the Arch-mage for keeping him there, hated himself for being so weak. He had almost left, once, when the mantra of ‘I can't leave or she'll die’ wasn't enough. “There are a couple of reasons, admittedly.” Gaster replied, studying the grain of the wood of his wall. “The church will kill my mother if I don't. I wish I was a good enough person to say that was it, but,” Gaster shook his head, “I wanted to become stronger, Sans. I wanted to master magic so that one day, I would surpass even the Arch-mage and kill him.”

Gaster couldn't bring himself to meet the monster's gaze. He knew what he desired was wrong and morbid and selfish... but he did not have a Kindness soul. He couldn't simply disregard the hatred that stirred inside him, and if he didn't want to be consumed by it, he had to give it a focus. That was the best he had.

_Your best isn't good enough._

_You're so stupid, so weak._

_Do you think anyone will want you after knowing what desires lie inside you?_

Gaster closed his eyes, waiting for the monster to either tear into him or cower in fear. “ That's... a pretty good goal, actually. I don't know if you'll be able to defeat the Arch-mage any time soon, but it's definitely what I would do.”

Gaster stared at the monster in disbelief. He... agreed? He had never told anyone why he had stayed and put up with everything the Arch-mage had done to him. He had put himself down for years for thinking that way, but couldn't have stopped himself if he wanted to stay sane.

“Also, did you just call me by my name?” Sans arched a brow bone at the human.

Gaster felt his hands twitch as he realized what he had said. “No, you're mistaken. I did not say your name.”

Sans grinned. “You're an awful liar.”

Gaster glared at the skeleton, heat rising to his face. “I am not, and I wasn't lying.”

The grin never left the skeleton’s skull. “Gaster, I have a soul of Integrity. If you think you can be all sly and slide a lie past me, you're wrong.”

Gaster cocked an eyebrow in return. “But you don't even have your Eye activated. How would you know if I was lying?”

“Integrity intuition and gut feelings, obviously.” Sans said with a smirk and a good-natured eyeroll. “Also, I saw you signing, and you only do that when you're thinking or you're not telling the truth.”

Gaster froze as he realized the skeleton was right, he had his hands raised and still partially forming a word. Gaster coolly rested his palms on his knees. “Right, well, so what if I did? It makes no difference in the end.”

Sans sombered at that and Gaster mentally kicked himself. Did he want the monster to lose all his Hope? Actually, that might be for the best, that way neither he nor Lytle could become anymore attached. He shunned the thought the moment it zipped through his head. No, he didn't want Sans to die, not yet, he actually liked the monster's spirit and personality, not that that would spare him from his eventual demise.

“Gaster, be completely honest with me.” Sans said before the silence became uncomfortable. “What's going to happen to me?”

Gaster sighed. They always asked eventually, might as well get it out of the way now. “For the next few weeks, you will test any spells I need you to, and will perform tests to clarify exactly how effective my experiment was on you. After that, you will be handed over to the church for disposal.”

Sans was silent, and Gaster found himself unwilling to look at the monster to see his reaction. “So... you're not the one that kills the monsters you experiment on?”

“No.”

“Did you...” Sans trailed off, and Gaster heard the skeleton swallow, what or how he wasn’t sure. “Did you want the monsters to die?”

Gaster closed his eyes, wondering if he should actually open up to the monster. He had done so in the past, and it had only led him to pain and misery when they were dead. But, Lytle did plan to free the skeleton, however she figured that would happen. Gaster couldn’t risk losing his mother for a monster, but that didn’t mean he would oppose Lytle if she wanted to try. “No.” The skeleton nodded, apparently satisfied. “Now I have a question for you: why didn’t you kill me?”

Gaster hadn’t been sure if Sans was the kind of soul to think about killing their enemy while they slept, but once he saw the monster freeze at the question, he knew he was. But that also made the question that much more important.

Sans was silent as he thought about the response, eyeing the human with equal amounts of fear and respect. “Why did you stand up for me when the Arch-mage wanted to hurt me?”

“Answering a question with a question?” Gaster’s lip twitched up into a smirk. “That’s not very polite, I answered your question easily enough.”

Sans sighed, but was smiling again, though Gaster couldn’t fathom why. “I didn’t kill you because I didn’t think you deserved that kind of death. Just like I’m sure you didn’t think I deserved to be hurt.”

Gaster furrowed his brow, nodding slightly.

“What was that?” Sans said, pointing to his midsection. Gaster followed his line of sight to where his hands were once again poised, done signing. Gaster quickly stuffed his hands inside his robes, a light blush brushing his cheeks.

“I was just thinking that you were using an analogy, comparing one idea to another in a logical manner.” Gaster muttered. “And that I should have been smart enough able to follow your thinking.”

Sans smirked. “Everyone’s thinking is different, doc. Just because you think differently than me doesn’t make you any more or less smart.”

Gaster felt troubled by the skeleton’s comment, though he had no idea why. Actually, maybe it had to do with- no, he stopped the line of thought there; if he started thinking, he’d start signing again, and then the monster would see just how much self-control he lacked. No, he would just focus back on the conversation. He blinked at Sans, waiting for him to say something, but the skeleton just awkwardly rubbed the back of his head, waiting for Gaster to say something.

Gaster huffed. “You never answered my question about where Lytle was.”

“Oh,” the skeleton put his hand down, relieved to have something to fill the quiet of the night, “She went back to her tent to rest. Poured a lot of magic into you, you know.”

“Mm.” Gaster hummed in response, feeling rather tired himself. The adrenaline from before had worn off, leaving just an ache in his soul and a pain in his stomach.

“Gaster, you lost a lot of Hope during that fight.” Sans said, his tone serious. Gaster tried to focus on the skeleton’s words, but found that the room was spinning. Had it been doing that before? No, no, his muddled mind worked, it was just him, a symptom from his blood and magic loss. He felt something warm and sticky clinging to his stomach and idly remembered a ripping sensation when he sat up as black spots began to dance across his vision. “Care to explain that bit?”

“The Arch-mage’s magic.” The doctor mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut. The tumbling sensation did not go away, or even lessen.

“Wha- Gaster!”

He was dimly aware of two hands on his shoulders, and his heart and soul instinctively gave a little flutter of fear. He pushed the hands away, scrambling back to huddle in the corner.

“Dammit, stop fighting me, I’m trying to help you!” The hands came back this time, forcefully easing the doctor into a lying position even as the man hissed and pried at them. “You opened up your wound again, idiot, stop moving or you’ll make it worse.” Gaster couldn’t stop. The part of his mind that knew where he was and what was happening was too exhausted to reign in the part of his mind that was stuck in the past, convinced this was some trick by the Arch-mage to lower his defenses. “Do you want me to have to knock you out? Give it a rest already!” Gaster’s heart skipped a beat as purple magic locked up his muscles, restraining him.

 _Oh God oh god oh god oh god, not again, not again, please, I’ll try harder, I’ll do better, just don’t hurt me again!_ The terrified child in him tried begging for mercy, but his jaw was shut tight and unable to open. The best the man could manage was a choked whimper, his soul scraping for any magic left and coming up empty.

Several tense moments passed while he waited for something to happen, for pain to blossom somewhere on his person, but there was nothing. Exhaustion beat out the fear that was quickly receding, and Gaster slipped back into unconsciousness.

* * *

 

His eyes were brown.

Sans didn’t know why he had been so surprised by that. He guess he just thought the doctor’s eyes always glowed, and even if they weren’t, were still white. But Gaster was still a human, even if he rarely really acted like it, and how his eyes behaved made sense, in a way.Magic gave them a glow, and without magic they didn't glow and were normal. Still, it was weird.

Sans didn’t know what to do. Gaster had picked up on it even with his rudimentary people skills. He should have killed Gaster while he had the chance, but he didn’t. He could still kill the man, but Lytle was due to come back any time now. He would just need to talk to her, start getting a plan together. After all, the doctor said he only had a few weeks left.

Sans settled down against the wall, one socket still on the man. He didn’t know what had triggered Gaster’s reaction, but it no doubt had something to do with some horror the Arch-mage had put him through. The skeleton actually felt bad for the human. His instructors had always been kind, understanding, and pushed him to do his best. That’s just how monsters were. But it seemed that the Arch-mage was just how humans were.

No, Sans couldn’t truly believe that. Gaster seemed of better stock, even if still did what he was told by his fellow, and Lytle was too sweet for this world. There had to be other humans like them, and saying that all of them were bad would be lying.

Sans closed his sockets, letting his breathing relax. He had already been sleeping for a while before the doctor woke up, but a little more sleep never hurt anyone. Besides it wasn’t like he had much else to do.

He dreamt of a battle, a horrible mage in purple robes, and a reckless skeleton who turned and ran and lived. He woke up to screaming.

* * *

 

Gaster startled awake, bolting upright. He- he was back in his lab, slouched over his desk. He could feel Sans’ soul in his cell behind him, could almost feel as his eyelights shifted to stare at him. The doctor ran a hand over his face, trying to orient himself. Had that all been a dream? Or was this a dream? He couldn’t tell, they both seemed so real, he didn’t know what was happening.

There was nothing to suggest that this wasn’t real, even if when he looked down he didn’t at all recognize the rune drawn on the page or the code scribbled down next to it. He picked the paper up, carefully reading the markings and examining the rune. It was for a blue magic spell that created a point of blue magic that sucked in everything around, crushing it into a pulp. Gaster frowned, rubbing a phantom pain in his chest that felt familiar. He froze as he remembered exactly where he had felt it before: in his dreams on the hillside, deciding the fates of the humans and monsters that punctually appeared each time. So this was a dream. He glanced around the lab, studying the wood grains in his desk, appraising the stone walls and identifying the different scuffs and marks that had accumulated since his time here, watching the liquid magic swirl in their jars in their cubbies. Probably.

Gaster quickly fetched breakfast for Sans, but he didn't grab any for himself. It had become odd to him over the years, the concept of food and eating. Gaster frequently felt hungry, but very rarely did any type of food ever sound appealing enough to sate his hunger. His soul provided his body energy, and while that left him hungry and tired most of the time, it was also just how things were and it was enough. Once he returned to the lab, he handed the breakfast over to Sans, and waited for him to finish before opening the cage, picking up the sheet with the spell that needed to be tested, and leading him outside.

Gaster found himself musing over his apparent dreamscape as they walked, noting how he could stare at people's faces and see individual wrinkles, acne, and hairs. His nose had grown accustomed to the stench of man and sweat and waste, but that didn't mean he couldn't still tell it was there and know that it was present. He usually ignored the hum of voices and noise that accompanied camp life, but this time made an effort to listen to snidbits of conversation, making sure that he actually could.

“Gaster.” The doctor turned Sans hissed his name. The skeleton motioned to a crowd of people gathering, something in the middle of the area drawing their attention. Gaster drew in a sharp breath, heart stopping cold as Sans gave the commotion a curious look. He looked at the doctor in concern as the man turned away and began stomping away. Gaster stopped himself from snapping at the monster to follow, he didn’t know after all, and Gaster didn’t want to explain what was happening.

Gaster whirled around as Sans’ soul essence went toward the crowd instead of following the doctor. He wanted to shout at the skeleton to stop being such a pain, that he was just trying to figure out whether this was a dream or not, trying to figure out what it was showing him. He couldn’t though, with so many people milling about, unless he wanted to draw their ire and the attention of the church. So with a sigh, he marched ahead of the monster as if investigating the disturbance was his idea all along.

Gaster pushed his way, well, no, that wasn’t very accurate. When people saw him coming, which wasn’t very hard as he was twice the height of some of the people there, they cleared a path for him and his monster companion. The duo stopped at the front of the gathered people, Gaster watching with as much disinterest as he could muster, Sans looking around with apprehension and curiosity.

 **This was a mistake.** He found himself signing as he thought, watching soldiers carrying firewood come forward, dump it in the middle of the clearing, then go back for more. A beam of wood towered ominously above the kindling.

A tug on the doctor’s sleeve, and Gaster glanced down to find his gaze meeting with Sans’. **Why?** The skeleton signed back to him. Gaster blinked down at the monster, but before he could put more thought into why he could understand his signs, replied silently, **They’re about to burn someone at the stake.**

If Sans were a human, Gaster was fairly certain he would have paled at the comment. Sans’ gaze slid to the wood the soldiers were dutifully gathering. **Oh.** The skeleton paused, signing uncertainly. **Who do you think it is?**

Gaster scanned his gaze over the crowd. **Could be any number of people. If an apprentice did something the church didn’t like, they’ll have them burned. If any person is suspected of being a monster sympathizer, granted that there is proof, they’ll be burned.** There, near the back, the Arch-mage lurked like some cruel guardian, keeping an eye on Gaster, though the doctor had no idea why this time.

Sans grimaced, as much as his skull would allow anyways. **Tell me again why people hate magic and monsters so much?**

 **I don’t really know myself.** Gaster replied with a shrug. **Something to do with God, something to do with fear, something to do with envy, probably. If God says magic is bad and monsters are magical creatures, then monsters are bad. Humans fear what they don’t understand, what they can’t control, and magic is definitely such a force. Furthermore, if people can’t control something so powerful, they’ll be jealous of anyone who can.**

Gaster blinked at the monster as his bony shoulders shook up and down in silent laughter. **You don’t have to be so stiff, you know.**

 **What?** Gaster furrowed his brow at the monster, the corners of his mouth curving up into a small smile. **Stiff? Me? Good sir, perish the thought. There hast never been one so relaxed as I.** God, what was Gaster doing? Why was he being the witty with the monster and acting like they were friends? Were they?

Sans covered his teeth with his hand like that might stop his giggles from being heard. Now they were starting to draw the attention of men nearby, soldiers shooting them glares and whispering. Gaster turned away but not quickly enough to escape the monster’s response. **Of course, my lord. What was I thinking?**

The bantering mood quickly soured as Gaster caught sight of someone pushing their way through the crowd on the opposite side. Gaster bristled as Father Michael made his way to stand in the clearing, right next to the pile of wood, a torch in hand and his eyes bright with self-righteousness. He gave the doctor a shaky look before turning to address the crowed. Gaster felt the Arch-mage flare his soul a little, a message to his son not to try anything, though Gaster wasn’t sure exactly why he felt the need.

“Good God-fearing men and women of this camp,” The human boomed, loud voice echoing in the silence that had settled over the gathered humans. “Today, we come together to witness the undoing of the wicked. Among us has slept a wolf in sheep’s clothing, that by God’s mighty hand, we have striped naked to face judgement. Indeed, one of our own is a monster sympathizer.” There were boos and jeering from the crowds, condemning anyone that would side with such unholy demons. Gaster did not miss how Sans scooted a bit closer to him, crossing his arms and drawing into himself.

Gaster flared his soul, trying to identify who was going to be brought forward. He felt a soul reach out for him in response, and though it felt familiar, it felt wrong, empty, too awkward for the doctor to know exactly who it was.

“So now, we bring forth the harlot so that her soul may be cleansed by the holy flame. Bring forth the devil-worshipper!” The priest commanded, turning and motioning to the back of the crowd. The mass of bodies parted a path at the priest’s motion. Gaster couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

Juliet Lytle proudly marched down the lane, head held high and green eyes shining not with magic, but another kind of inner strength. She was beaten and bloody, her hair cut, her hands tied behind her back, and her soul empty of magic. The priest regarded her as she stopped before him, meeting his gaze evenly. The slap he issued echoed in the silence, enough force put behind it to throw the healer to the ground. There were cheers from the crowd, but Gaster only felt something... unexpected, to say the least.

Hatred. Pure, utter hatred. For these worms that dared hurt the best goddamn person that had ever graced their lives, for the Arch-mage that watched him keenly from afar, for the disgusting human that thought he was so much better than everyone else and strove to torment the doctor even as he cowered before him.

He moved to take a step forward, but found himself locked in place with purple magic. He hissed as the Arch-mage put a dampener on his soul, preventing him from using magic. _How did he get that spell? I never gave it to him._

Gaster watched as the priest roughly grabbed Lytle’s arm, pulling her to her feet and pushing her toward the soldiers that had walked down behind her. They took her, climbed the pile of wood, and lashed her to the stake, but not once did she glare at them or any of the other members of the gathered crowd. When her eyes met with Gaster’s, she actually smiled.

Gaster couldn't take it. His magic more or less exploded, throwing the Arch-mage back as his spell tore apart. The crowd immediately turned on him, but most of them weren't carrying weapons and those that were were no match for the doctor. He pushed them away with barely a thought, summoning a dome over the healer, the skeleton, and himself. Lytle was staring at the doctor, eyes wide, as he cut her ropes with a glance.

Lytle had been the first person to be truly kind to him since he had lost everything. She was his friend, even if he treated her poorly and didn't deserve her, she was his friend. He couldn’t let her just die like she was nothing.

The healer rubbed at her wrists with a troubled expression, opening her mouth, but the shattering of Gaster’s shield above them beat her to it. Gaster had instinctively put up a shield around himself, and consequently Sans, when he felt the Arch-mage’s soul flare with magic, so although he stumbled back as his spell broke, he was not in immediate danger.

The same could not be said for Lytle.

The Arch-mage stood behind her, an orange blade pressed to her neck. Gaster’s eyes widened as he realized his mistake, quickly summoning hands next to the Arch-mage to grab him and prevent him from using the conjured weapon, but it was too late. The healer’s body fell like a cut flower, lifeless, as blood poured from her slit throat.

Gaster could barely hear the Arch-mage as the man tsked. “This is what you get for trying to help people, Boy. Haven’t you learned by now? You can never do the right thing to keep the people you care about from getting hurt.”

All of Gaster’s other thoughts ground to a halt as the doctor replayed the events over and over in his head, looking for where he went wrong. But the moment Lytle had been brought forth, she had been dead, and all Gaster did was traumatize himself further, watching her die again and again.

“No...” Was all the man could muster, digging his fingers into the sides of his skull. “No no no no no, it can’t- she can’t- you-you-” Gaster’s grip on his head tightened as tears streamed down his pale face. “No...”

“Yes, actually.” The Arch-mage replied dryly. He flicked his finger and Gaster didn’t even need to look, but he did anyways. He didn’t even see his death, just the white pile of dust beside him. When had Gaster dropped his shield? He didn’t know. “And if you don’t behave yourself, your mother will face a similar fate. Now run along before the church decides to give you the punishment you deserve.”

Gaster didn’t move. He _couldn’t_ move. All he could do was watch as the Arch-mage turned away, lighting the wood on fire with a touch and striding away. All he could do was watch as the fire licked hungrily at Lytle’s body, turning her beautiful figure into a blackened, hideous atrocity. The smell made the doctor fall to his knees, resisting the urge to vomit. He froze as he felt something coarse beneath his palms. They were covered in white dust. Gaster retched on the ground in front of him, unable to control himself or his grief.

They were dead and it was his fault, his alone, because he wasn’t strong enough, not good enough, if only he were better, stronger, he could have saved them, but once again his stupidity, his recklessness, his inability to act or think or human cost innocent people their lives and suddenly he was laughing, laughing himself hoarse, laughing himself insane, and then he was screaming, hands covering his face and screaming like the pathetic child he was.

He woke up screaming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, I need some good songs to listen to for writing. I'm running out over here and making myself sick of some of my favorite songs T.T So if you guys have any suggestions, I'd love to hear them!


	14. You Want What

Adrian sighed, closing the book. It was an easy read and had only taken him a couple of days to finish it, same as the only other one the Arch-mage had assigned him to memorize. The first one hadn’t even been about magic, it had been about outdoor survival, identifying which plants and fungi were edible, how to find clean water, how to build a shelter, etc. He already knew some of that anyways, and this last book had been about the basics of magic, which Gaster already had ingrained in his mind. It was almost the same book as one of the tomes back home.

He set the book on the ground next to his bed, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. He didn’t have anything to do now. The door leading out of the cellar was always locked; the only time it opened was when the servants came to give him food or clean his chamber pot, and they wouldn’t let him out. He fingered the hem of his shirt, creeping over to the door and giving it an experimental push anyways. Still locked. But maybe not for long.

Adrian kept his hand on the door, pushing gently in different places until he found where the lock was laying on top. He grinned, taking a deep breath. This is the kind of circumstance Edgar had trained him for, the kind where you needed magic like a monster. No runes, no spells, not even a line of  thought, just magic. Adrian closed his eyes, concentrating, envisioning the lock on the door clicking open with a touch of blue magic. His eyes snapped open as he heard a thunk from outside. He pushed the cellar door open to fresh afternoon air. Success.

He climbed out of his prison, brushing off his clothes and looking around cautiously. There didn’t seem to be any servants around, and even if there were, Adrian wasn’t sure what they would do. Would they tell the Arch-mage or just put him back in room? Probably the latter, in which case he could just sneak out again.

The Arch-mage’s library had been expansive, and several of the books had caught Adrian’s eye, but he wasn’t allowed to take them when he was there, he had to memorize the two assigned. Well, it shouldn’t be a problem now, he was already done. Adrian set off in the direction he remembered the room being.

He took the servant’s corridors as that was the only way he knew, even if it meant a greater risk of running into someone. He tried to be quiet, but he hadn’t ever really tried sneaking around before, he hadn’t needed to. His breaths felt like shouts and his footfalls like cannon shots in the serene silence. He ignored that, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other and not letting himself turn tail and run.

He breathed in sharply as he rounded a corner to find a servant taking the same corridor. She didn’t even glance at him though, just scurried past with her head down. Adrian sighed in relief as she disappeared from sight, feeling emboldened enough to set a brisk pace the rest of the way.

Adrian found the door leading into the library, opening it and gazing around. Once he made sure the coast was clear, he slipped inside and began browsing the books. It took him a while to find one he wanted to read, he kept looking up at the slightest sounds and so many books sounded so fascinating, it was difficult to choose. Finally though, he chose a book bound in red leather with a circle on the cover with strange symbols and lines inscribed in it.

He tucked it under his arm and brought it back to his room, not even running into another person this time. He locked the door after him, just so that the servants wouldn’t be suspicious of anything and report him. He settled down on his bed, cracking open his treasure and began to read:

_For centuries, humans without access to magic were convinced science could give them a power equivalent to that of a mage. With this thought in mind, research began on the art of alchemy._

Adrian perked up. He was quite with familiar with alchemy, his mother was an alchemist after all, and he enjoyed it. Plus, it made him feel a bit closer to home. He continued reading.

_Researchers thought for years that by drawing circles and inscribing particular symbols in them, they could harness the power of the earth to change an item into something else, such as lead into gold. Scientists have thus far produced little in the way of success, only theories and ideas. However, such a practice is real, if used with magic._

Well, this was not the same alchemy Adrian had been thinking of, but nonetheless it was fascinating. He took a deep breath, preparing himself to dive into the book. There was no telling at this point if the magic was too far above his skill level for him to perform, but he could try his best, at least.

_The first law of alchemy to understand is that the object you are ‘transmuting’ must be similar to the item you want. Alchemy is not simply about changing something into something else- it is a different possibility. For instance, you could turn a blade of grass into wheat, but you could not turn a stone into water. With the grass, there is a possibility that grass had never taken root there at all, and it had been instead wheat. With the stone, there is no path in which it could simply become water, and thus cannot be changed into that, except by incredible amounts of magical energy that surpass what most monsters even contain in their soul._

_To start, you’ll begin with the example used above, turning grass into wheat. Below are the runes needed to perform this spell. There are no words to accompany this spell._

Adrian blinked at the dozen runes that were scrawled on the page, each one more complex than the last. Maybe he had gotten in a bit over his head with this book, but there was no turning back now. Might as well try.

He snuck back outside to grab a stalk of grass, bringing in back inside. He didn’t have any writing utensils, but he could just write the runes in the air with magic. He muttered a spell and his fingertip glowed white. He looked back and forth between the book and his finger as he wrote the runes in the air, glowing white markings that glowed a bit a brighter than the ball of light he had summoned in the corner.

He finished writing the runes with a small flourish and a smile, the familiar sucking sensation on his soul letting him know the spell was working and taking his magic. He watched in amazement as his bit of grass morphed into a stalk of wheat. He held it up to his sphere to examine it as the runes faded, admiring the extraordinary magic. He had never heard of this kind of alchemy before, but it was awesome!

He kept reading, hungry for more. He couldn't try many of the other spells since he didn't have the necessary materials, but he got the gist of it. It was all about sprawling possibilities it seemed, and relativity.

Adrian jumped as he heard the someone at the door, hurriedly sliding the book under his bed and opening one of the others to a random page. The servant entered silently, leaving his food on the bottom step as always, then retreating. Adrian paused to eat his lunch of flatbread, cheese, and apples, then dove back into his book in earnest. He needed to finish it before anyone missed it.

He finished the rest of the thick tome in a few more hours, not memorizing most of the runes but identifying the pattern between runes. He snuck back outside, grabbing more grass to experiment on. He tweaked the runes a bit to vary his results and make sure he actually understood the magic. He made different kinds of flowers, weeds, herbs, any plant he could think of really. After that he ran out of plants he decided to try something else. He set his sights on the cold, bland stone floor, a smile eeking onto his face. He flipped to the page with details on transmuting stone to sand, nodding to himself. It was the same principle, basically, but then again all of this was basically the same principle. But that didn't matter! Adrian could do this, he just had to believe he could!

He traced out another dozen and a half runes in the air, stomach flipping in fear. At worst, the spell would backfire and throw him against the wall if he didn't do the runes right. But it was fine. It would work. Hopefully.

Adrian squeezed his eyes shut as he finished the runes, waiting with bated breath for when he crashed into the stone behind him. He cracked an eye open when he was still very much sitting on his bed, grinning at what he found. The drab gray stone had changed into swirling marble, shiny new and polished. Adrian jumped onto it, walking on it with wonder. It had worked! He had done this!

His stared at it for a moment longer before begrudgingly changing it back. He didn't know what the Arch-mage would do if he found out Adrian had stolen a book from his library and turned the floor of his room to marble, but he didn't really want to find out. His thoughts began to slid toward the first night and unblinking eyes, but he quickly focused in on something else. His bed was rather plain, maybe he could do something with that.

After knocking the wood in different places and scrutinizing the color, he identified it as a sturdy oak frame.

What if it was rowan and made by an expert carpenter? This question was what zipped through the boy's head as he traced out more runes. With a flash of light, the bed became exquisite, carved in extreme detail. Fish leaping out of a stream lined with flowers and deer on the foot. Hawks soaring above bears and wolves and trees on the head. Adrian smiled, turning his rough straw into a soft swan-feathered mattress lined with fine silk.

Oh, Adrian would abuse this power if he ever got the chance.

He admired his handiwork for a bit more, turning the frame and blankets back but risking keeping the mattress for tonight. One night he would sleep in it, then change it back and return the book.

The servant didn't notice what he'd done when he delivered dinner. Adrian dispelled his ball of light, flopping on his wonderful creation with a content sigh.

Going to sleep was always the worst part of the day, the boy had found. It was then he couldn't distract himself from what had happened, then when he slowly broke apart. Tears streamed down his face as he buried it into his pillow, willing himself to go to sleep before the memories consumed him.

* * *

 

Adrian returned the book in the morning without incident. He hadn't noticed it before, but he had more or less ravaged a patch of grass in his experimentation. That was easily remedied though, all he did was bring back the grass he had taken and fix the patch with his ‘alchemy’.

He changed his bed back, sad that he would lose the lovely sleep but grateful he'd gotten on night of it. Maybe he would change it back later, if he was certain the Arch-mage wasn't coming soon.

Without anything to do, he wondered what the man was doing. Adrian hadn't caught a glimpse of him since he had sparred with him, and he was pretty sure he had left to do something, what the boy wasn't sure. The Arch-mage had mentioned war starting soon. Was he off doing whatever a mage does to prepare for battle? What would that even involve?

Adrian sighed, crawling onto his bed and snuggling under the covers. He popped his head out as a clanking at the door signalled breakfast, but instead of a servant darting in and out, the Arch-mage descended, looking as annoyed as ever.

“Come.” He ordered simply when he caught sight of child, turning on his heel and leaving as unceremoniously as he entered.

Adrian cautiously slipped out from under his blankets, padding behind the Arch-mage as the man lead him to the back of the building where another cellar door resided. The man opened the door and its lock with a wave of a hand and a flash of blue in his eyes. He glanced behind him to make sure Adrian was following before descending the stairs.

Adrian stopped, staring down at the darkness that quickly at up the Arch-mage, a butterfly of fear fluttering to life in his chest. He couldn't see anything past the first few steps lit by the morning sun. He could hear the Arch-mage’s steps clomping down, farther and farther, and Adrian tried to follow but childish fear took hold, locking his feet in place. At some point, he heard the Arch-mage stop, summoning a ball of light as he glared up at the child. Adrian’s eyes widened, if that was even possible, as he took in the view before him, or lack thereof. The Arch-mage’ light was bright, bright enough to illuminate his position from halfway down the stairway up to Adrian and down to the concrete ground below. Everything past that was too dark to see, but in the several stories the stairs descended nothing else was revealed by the magic.

“Hurry up, I haven't all day.” The Arch-mage snapped, tapping his foot ad he waited for Adrian to catch up.

The boy gazed at the expanse in wonder. He glanced at the purple back of the man in front of him, working up the courage to speak. “What is this place?”

The Arch-mage stopped, and for a terrified moment Adrian thought he might strike him. Instead he turned, grinning. “You'll soon find out.”

Well, that wasn't a good sign.

Adrian bowed his head, silently following the man the rest of the way down the stairs. He turned as they stepped onto level ground, leading Adrian, presumably, to the middle of the giant room, their footsteps echoing in the darkness. The Arch-mage stopped suddenly, and Adrian almost ran into him before he managed to catch himself.

The man gestured around them. “This is the first step of your training. I trust you have finished the books?” Adrian nodded even though they were several days earlier than the mage’s previous deadline. “Good, you'll need it. This lesson will slowly force your soul to be in Battle all the time so that you may know who and what is approaching and around at all times.” The Arch-mage began to circle around the boy, his footsteps harsh as the boy spun around to keep eye contact. “You will stay here until the light disappears, then you will find your way back to the entrance and leave. Understand?” Adrian nodded again. The Arch-mage stopped, like a wolf about to pounce. “Good. Do not disappoint me again.”

He left without another word, leaving the boy alone. Adrian wiped his palms on his pants, watching the ball of light pensively. Whenever it dimmed he would have to summon a new one, that way he could see and it definitely wasn't because he was scared or anything.

He stumbled forward as the ground began shaking, looking around in shock. Segments of the floor took on a blue hue as they rose up around the child, three times as tall as him. Adrian frowned, his brain not entirely aware of what was going on yet. Then the light blinked out.

Adrian was alone, in the dark, all turned around, and had to find his way through a maze. He hurriedly tried to summon a ball of light, but the best he could manage was a ball that barely emitted enough light to see his hand in front of his face. He tried several times to summon another ball, but each one was no brighter than the last. So the Arch-mage had some way to weaken his magic. Yay. He summoned five of them, but that only made each of their lights weaker so that it was only the equivalent of one. The boy sighed, dismissing the other balls and only keeping one.

Adrian, with nothing else to do, sat down, his little brow furrowed, as he thought of which way to go. He had seen the Arch-mage go to his right when he left, so he should go that way. His mind made up, he got up and set off in the direction he was sure he should go.

He wasn't sure how long he walked, but at some point his stomach began to grumble. Adrian stopped, glaring down at it as if that might it from making him hungry. It didn't, of course, but it had been worth a try. He looked around, but he hadn't seen any food before and he didn't see any now. What had the book said about finding food? That was right, find a source of water. Adrian strained his ears as he continued on, searching for the telltale trickle of a stream.

Just as he was about to give up, the sound he was looking for seeped into existence, somewhere ahead. The boy hurried on, his zeal renewed, and was rewarded with the corridor he was in opening into a large room. His light wasn't nearly strong enough to reveal its contents, but he could hear water flowing ahead. He stopped, looking around fearfully. This wasn't a trap set by the Arch-mage was it? Adrian wasn't sure. He summoned a green bubble around himself, just in case, even if it was thin and flimsy with whatever was weakening his magic.

He prowled ahead, his light trailing dutifully behind him. Something gleamed up ahead, and Adrian managed a weak smile as it turned out to be the water he needed. He made sure the water was safe, checking the color in the little light allotted to him, before cupping his hands and slurping some up. Once his thirst was quenched, he walked along the stream, on the lookout for any plants growing alongside it. He was soon rewarded with a patch of mushrooms he identified as edible. He ate some of them and carried the rest of them on a shield.

He followed the water until it brought him to a way out of the room, another narrow hallway that twisted and turned. He decided to leave the bubble up, just to be safe.

He continued on, eating whenever he became hungry and regretting he he didn't think to take any water. He found more water eventually, a small puddle in the middle of some hallway. He drank most of it and put the rest in another bubble to follow him, right next to his food and behind his light.

He started feeling tired at some point and settled down into a corner to sleep. He tried to keep his shield up, but as he drifted off, his magic fazed away, dropping his food and water and leaving him in the dark.

He woke up to find his water gone and his food scattered around the ground, most of it eaten. He stared at the sight for several terrified seconds, expecting some awful beast to attack from the darkness, but nothing happened. Eventually, he gathered the food and continued walking again. He didn't sleep when he began to feel tired, didn't sleep until he was too exhausted to continue. When he woke up, a similar scene met him, but Adrian himself was still unharmed.

He didn't know how long he was down there, lost in the maze and the shadows. He slept four times, and refilled his food and water several times. He wasn't even sure if there was still a way out anymore, in the vastness if the stretching darkness above and the generic walls and floor of the maze around him. Still, he pressed on. He didn't have any other options.

He found a small room with another patch of mushrooms growing in the center. He stooped down to collect them only for something heavy and with claws to lunge at his back. Adrian screamed, his soul immediately breaking into Battle as sharp claws raked his back and pointed teeth dug into his shoulders. He somehow managed to throw the beast off him with his feeble blue magic, scrambling to his feet. The pain from his back was almost enough to drop him back to his knees, but he forced himself to remain upright, whirling around to face his enemy.

Two white pinpricks gazed at him through the shadows. Adrian stepped back, summoning another green bubble even though the last one obviously didn't do anything. The pinpricks started moving, circling him just as the Arch-mage had. Adrian pushed his ball of light closer, right above the beast.

It looked like something drawn almost, swirling, sketch-like shadows composing the entirety of its dog body. It drew its ears back, drawing away from the light.

Did that mean it was afraid of light? Or did light hurt it, maybe? Maybe he should try-

Adrian’s thoughts were cut off as another one attacked from the left, sinking its teeth into his thigh. Adrian couldn't even manage a scream this time as another one ran at him from the other side, locking its jaw around his ankle. The boy was hurled to the ground as more swarmed him, clawing and biting.

Adrian was about to die.

He couldn't die. He couldn't afford that. They'd kill Mother. The war the Arch-mage had been talking about would start and end without him and innocent lives would be lost because Adrian hadn't been there. The Arch-mage would go free, never having justice exacted on him. Adrian couldn't die yet.

Not that it seemed he had much choice in the matter. His magic was too weak to lift more than one shadow beast at a time, and when he did get one off, another would take its place.

Suddenly they were gone. Adrian curled into a ball as the pain washed over him, all his limbs on fire and his consciousness quickly dimming. He started into alertness as bright lights blinked on and green magic began knitting his bloodied, torn flesh back together. The boy heaved in a giant breath of air as the pain mostly receded, leaving a phantom, tingling sensation all over.

He sat up, looking around through squinted eyes that griped at the harshness of the light after being in the dark for so long. The Arch-mage stood above him, a new healer standing beside him with her head bowed. She glanced at Adrian with bright blue eyes that contrasted with her black hair, only to be smacked on the back of the head. She was thrown to the ground by the force of the Arch-mage’s strike, whimpering slightly. This only made the man scowl, taking his foot and grinding the heel into her hand.

“Do not look or speak to anyone.” He hissed. After several long, painful looking moments, the Arch-mage drew back his foot, leaving a gaping, bloody hole in the back of the girl's hand. He turned his attention to Adrian, and the boy cringed back.

“You did as poorly as can be expected.” The man drawled as the walls began to sink back into the ground. “Come, you will follow me and try again.”

Adrian slowly got to his feet, and trailed behind the Arch-mage, his stomach twisting into knots. He didn't want to go through that again,  that awful loneliness and terror of what lurked just out of sight. Instead of being better knowing what laid in wait for him, it was worse, knowing what kind of deadly efficiency the beasts worked at.

All of this to keep his soul in Battle outside of times of actual threat. How was this even going to help with that?

Adrian didn't have the answer, and he wished he did. As the Arch-mage left, the walls rose, and the light disappeared, he just wanted to go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for the song suggestions, I really appreciated it, it was really helpful in writing this chapter. At some point I'll probably listen to each of your songs for different chapters, but for this one I listened to Control by Halsey. For future chapters I'll continue to post the songs on the tumblr.  
> Thank you guys for all the positive feedback! It was really inspiring honestly, and even though I'm like a zombie right now from all the school's-out shenanigans, I still felt like writing. I'll be starting summer school soon (since I'm taking PE online to get another elective) so I don't know how much I'll really feel like writing then, but I'll keep trying to get a chapter out every week!  
> So for this chapter, I did a little bit of research on alchemy. The magic is different from the actual theory of alchemy, but as it was said alchemy didn't exist, magic took its place as best it could.


	15. Sanity Is So Fragile For A 10-Year-Old

Adrian Gaster was on the verge of  _ losing his mind. _

It was actually sad, he thought as he kept putting one foot in front of the other, just nine years old and already his mind was going. Out in the darkness, there was so little. So little sensory engagement that he had actually begun hearing things, seeing things in the gaping black all around him fringed with the gray next to him. Voices mainly, and people from his past, limited though that was. Mostly his mother, sad and alone, asking him with the voice he imagined she'd have if he wanted her to die. Or, sometimes, he heard her screams echoing somewhere off in the distance. He never saw Edgar, but sometimes he heard him singing so loudly he could’ve been right next to him.

But that wasn’t the worst part of it all, somehow. The worst part of it all was that the Arch-mage followed him, looking down on him and giving harsh remarks whenever he felt like it. Not the real Arch-mage, of course, the real Arch-mage was off somewhere probably laughing at the child’s torment, that was if he even cared enough to watch. No, this was just another apparition, another trick of his mind to stumble him.

Still, no matter how awful the maze was, the beasts were worst. Now that he knew what he was looking for, he could catch glimpses of them as he rounded corners, right before they melded back into their natural environment like ghosts. Every moment he kept his ears open and eyes peeled for the little mongrels with the pinpricks of white for eyes. There was no telling when they would attack. Once he had gone probably a week before they attacked him. Another time it had barely been an hour before they ambushed him in a corridor. At that point, it went from too little to too much. His existence became searing pain all over his body, unable to do anything but scream as their teeth and claws tore at his flesh. Though the maze was steadily driving him to insanity, it was better than the pain. Besides, the crazy man in his town had always seemed so happy and lively, maybe it wasn’t so bad.

“They’re coming for you.” The Arch-mage whispered as he followed behind Adrian, his fake feet silent as Adrian’s footsteps echoed. “They’ll tear you to pieces before I intervene and make you go through all of it again.”

Adrian ignored him. It’s not like he would stop talking or go away if he said something, if he had learned anything from the last... weeks? Months? Adrian wasn’t sure anymore. Time had no place in the silence and shadows. But if he had learned anything from however long he had been in here, it was not to talk back to the ghosts of his mind.

He settled back against a wall, sliding down to rest for a moment. He closed his eyes, not that he could see much more with his eyes open. His legs ached and his feet were sore from walking on the hard floor for so long. His head pounded from constantly being awake and anxious, and a pain had settled behind eyes too long ago for him to even notice it anymore.

“What are you doing? They’ll find you here.” The Arch-mage nagged him from somewhere above him. He cracked an eye, staring at the man that wasn’t really there and noting second-handedly that his face fuzzed slightly when Adrian looked at him directly. 

Adrian buried his face in his hands as the familiar panic set in. They were coming, and what was he doing? Sitting here and giving up? What would that accomplish?

...What would continuing accomplish? It’s not like he could do whatever the Arch-mage wanted him to anyways. He should just sit here and let the shadow dogs kill him.

Just as the thoughts flitted through his mind, terrified screams rang in his ears. He cried out, covering them for all the good it did. It was his mother. “Do you want me to die?” She screamed with the voice she never had but Adrian imagined her with. “Do you want to be the one that killed me?” 

Adrian didn’t know how long her voice haunted him, how long he sat there sobbing in the near-complete darkness. At some point, the sound died out, and he forced himself to climb to his feet and continue trekking on. He had to find the exit. If he managed to find the exit, the Arch-mage would let this all stop. Right?

He tried to remember what exactly the Arch-mage wanted from this ‘training’ that was more like torture. He wanted his soul to be constantly in Battle, that was it. But how was this helping? 

Adrian tried to flare his soul into Battle, but without a perceivable threat in sight, it was more or less futile. He tried to convince himself that the dogs were out there, vicious and dangerous, ready to kill him, but his soul was having none of it. He was already exhausted, and his soul just didn’t want to enter Battle. 

Suddenly, a crash sounded from behind him. Adrian whirled around, guarding his face with his hands as his soul leapt into Battle, terror shoving it into the mode. The man that wasn’t there had slammed his hand against the wall, his eyes dark. “They’re coming! Don’t you want to know when they’re there?”

Adrian wasn’t sure what he was talking about, he couldn’t feel anything in the darkness, but he had successfully gotten his soul into Battle, at least. He forced it to remain that way as he walked on, searching the darkness with it. He stopped cold as he felt a mass of magic prowling back and forth a little way ahead, waiting for him.

Well, wasn’t this just perfect. He now knew that the beasts were up there, but because of whatever the Arch-mage was doing to him, he still had a pitiable amount of magic at his disposal and would never be able to overpower them. Maybe if he just...

He took one last longing glance at his faithful ball of light before sending it down the hall and into the room where the beasts were. He guided it to where the beasts sulked, and was rewarded with whimpers from ahead and the magic his soul sensed disappeared. He brought his ball of light back, smiling shakily as sight, no matter how limited, returned.

“Congratulations.” The man that wasn’t there drawled, clapping slowly. “You’re not utterly useless after all.”

Adrian rolled his eyes, but otherwise did not acknowledge what the man that wasn’t there said. He had figured something out, at least, and couldn’t help but smile at the revelation. Maybe it wasn’t all pointless after all.

He only went on for maybe two more days before he couldn’t keep his soul in Battle any longer and the beasts swarmed him. But at least he had made some progress. If the Arch-mage was the least bit impressed that Adrian had figured it out, he didn’t show it. He simply had the healer fix him up and bring him back to try again. Adrian had learned a while ago that the Arch-mage did not leave him in the same spot every time when he tried to memorize the paths of the maze. As it was, he had pieces of the maze mapped out, but everything looked so different in the light that he had no idea where the pieces fit together.

He stared at the Arch-mage as he walked, making sure this was the that didn’t fuzz. Before this had all happened, he might have been afraid to speak to him, but after this, the only thing he feared was the shadows and the beasts that came from them. “How long have I been doing this?”

The Arch-mage didn’t respond right away, speaking once he had brought Adrian to where he was to start this time. “You’ve been at this for, oh, about a year now.”

Adrian blinked. “What?”

“You heard me, Boy, and I won’t repeat myself.” The Arch-mage looked the boy up and down before mending his clothes with a touch like he always did. “And you’ll probably be doing this for another at the rate you’re going.”

Adrian could hardly breathe. He had been doing this for a year? And the Arch-mage was going to make him do it for another? He- he couldn’t. He couldn’t be alone in the dark with nothing but his thoughts and the beasts. Not for another year. He gripped the sides of his head, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood to keep himself from screaming. He couldn’t keep doing this, couldn’t keep going like this, no matter how much he needed to.

_ Forgive me, Mother... _

Adrian collapsed onto the ground, all the strength leaving his body. He just couldn’t do it.

“You can’t do it, or you won’t?” Her voice that never existed whispered in his ear. “You’d leave me here all alone to die, Adrian? After I did so much for you, gave you life, raised you, was there for you when no one else was? You’d just give up on me and leave me to die like Edgar?”

Adrian squeezed his eyes shut as the tears streamed down his face, trying to push himself up on shaking arms only to thud back onto the ground. The sleepless nights, crouched and terrified while waiting for the beasts to come, the endless walking, squeezing any magic he could from his soul, the hallucinations, taunting him and demanding more water from a dry well, were catching up with him. He knew he had to get up, that he would kill her if he didn’t, but he had nothing left to give. 

He heard the Arch-mage grunt above him, but which one he wasn’t sure. He let a hoarse, terrified yelp as he was suspended above the ground with chilling blue magic. The Arch-mage glared at the child, rolling his eyes after a moment. “Fine, we’ll take a break. You get two days to rest, then I’m bringing you back here.”

“You won’t kill her?” Adrian whimpered, lip quivering.

The Arch-mage sighed. “I should, but I won’t. Consider this a warning. If you ever dare to be so weak again, I will not hesitate.”

_ Weak. _ The word made the child flinch. He was being so  _ weak  _ when he needed to be strong. He hung his head, the word ringing inside.  _ Weak. _

The Arch-mage brought him back above ground, and Adrian couldn’t help the choked sob that tore its way out of his throat. The sunlight felt so warm and enveloping, like the embrace of an old friend, that he just wanted to lie down and soak in as much of it as he could before he was shoved underground again. The Arch-mage had other plans though, bringing the boy to his room and dropping him on his bed. “I’ll return in two days.” He said, ascending the stairs. “Count yourself lucky, Boy, that I’m giving you this reprieve.” He left in his regular, abrupt fashion.

Adrian didn’t have the energy left to even roll over, he just fell into the deepest sleep of his life.

 

When he woke up, there was a meal of flatbread, cheese, and dried apples waiting for him. He descended upon the food, devouring almost all of it before he remembered that this was his first meal that wasn’t entirely made up of mushrooms and savoring the last few bites. He left the plate on the floor, rolling over and sleeping for a while more. When he woke up, the Arch-mage still wasn’t there, and Adrian didn’t think he could force himself to sleep anymore, his soul already buzzed with magic.

Okay, so what did he do? He hesitated for only a moment before unlocking the door and crawling outside to lay in the sun for a while. He listened for the telltale sound of the Arch-mage’s boots, but there was nothing, not even a fake Arch-mage to torment him. 

He slowly stood and plodded to the library, scraping his brain for the right way to go. He got there without any trouble, slipping inside from the servant door. It looked the same as it had one year ago, apparently, though he did spy some new scrolls overflowing in a chest among the clutter of pages and books and tomes. It hadn't been nearly so messy the last time he had been here, but Adrian actually liked it. It gave the room the facade of being warm and cozy.

Rustling from somewhere to the left. Adrian pressed himself against the wall, concealing himself behind the edge of a bookcase and peeking over to find the source.

It... was a girl. Not a girl in servant clothes or a healer dress, but a girl in a deep blue dress with white lace embroidery accenting her curves. She had brown hair that hung down to her shoulders, and she couldn't have been much older than Adrian, maybe fifteen or sixteen, though Adrian had never been a very good judge of age. She sat at long table, flipping through some book or another, brow furrowed in concentration. She looked up suddenly, making Adrian dart to cover, but her interest wasn’t him.

“Greg, look at this!” She said, motioning for someone off to her side to come closer. A boy the same age as her walked over, a book tucked under his arm. He was short, with cropped, blonde hair and a certain spunk to his walk like he owned the world. His clothes were just as flashy as the girl’s, a rich burgundy tunic and complimentary brown trousers. She looked around, causing Adrian to draw behind the bookcase a bit more so she didn’t see him. She found who she was looking for, though, off somewhere obscured from Adrian’s vision by bookcases. “You too, Max! Look!”

Another boy swaggered into view, and Adrian silently gagged at his outfit of purple like the Arch-mage’s. His head was a mop of blonde hair that covered his eyes, and Adrian silently wondered how he saw anything.

“What’s up?” Greg asked, hopping up to sit on the table to look down at whatever piece of information had caused the girl to call them. “Oh, is this that weird light magic again?”

“The Arch-mage says that magic is too advanced for us right now.” The other boy, Max, chimed in, hopping up on the girl’s other side. “You should give it a rest already.”

The girl puffed out her cheeks indignantly. “You guys are such spoil-sports. Just look at this real quick! There’s a spell here for invisibility!” She said, tapping the book.

Max craned his neck for a better look, eyes widening at whatever was scrawled on the page. “That’s cool and all, but do you see all the runes for a spell like that? And there’s an entire page of incantations for it! That’s just ridiculous, it wouldn’t even have an application on the battlefield with all the time it takes to prepare.”

The girl smacked Max lightly on the back of the head. “That’s why you do it beforehand, stupid. And this isn’t a spell for the battlefield, this is for spying! Or, maybe you could use it on the battlefield, but you’d have to flank the enemy if you wanted it to be really effective and cause chaos.” The girl chuckled lightly at the thought, her expression dark.

“I think we could do it.” Greg piped up, reading the page. “It says here that it requires a lot of magic though, and I don’t know if just one of us could manage it by ourselves.” The girl deflated a little, her lower lip protruding out in a pout. “B-but I’ll help you, Serena! If you really want to try, I’ll give it everything I got!”

The girl’s- no, Serena’s- expression instantly brightened, and Max was left looking back and forth between the two as they stared at each other happily. “I-I’ll help too! I was just... saying...” He scowled as he realized neither one of them were paying him any attention, trapped in each other’s gazes. He jumped off the table, muttering something in a language Adrian didn’t recognize. He froze as he caught sight of a boy peering around the edge of a book case.

They stared at each other for a moment before Adrian blinked slowly, scurrying back to the servant door. “Hey, come back here!” Max was on him immediately, grabbing him by upper arms and pulling him back. The other two snapped to attention at the commotion as Adrian pushed the boy away with a shove of blue magic. He was already the Arch-mage’s prisoner, he wouldn’t be this random stranger’s too.

The boy flew back to land hard on the ground, a few books tumbling from the top shelves and on top of him. Instantly, Serena and Greg were in front of his prone form, ready to defend him. “You little bastard, I’ll kill you for hurting my brother!” Greg roared, his eyes blazing white as he prepared some magic or another.

Adrian might have ran before he had begun his training with the Arch-mage, but the shadows had changed him. The Arch-mage had changed him. Speaking of, the man that didn’t exist was beside him again, grinning wickedly. “Kill them.” He said.

Adrian couldn’t stop himself. His white eyes blazed green as he summoned a bubble around the two. They yelped as Adrian began tightening the circle, squishing them together like the bugs they were. 

“Yes, good.” The man that wasn’t there said, that ravenous smile still plastered on his face. “Very good. Now, just a well-placed spell and they’re dead. Simple really, like snapping the neck of a chicken.”

Adrian didn’t know who these people were, he didn’t owe them anything. They were probably students of the Arch-mage, but they obviously weren’t being put through the same torture that Adrian was. Well, maybe he should show them what it was really like to train in the art of magic. His hand twitched, and the bubble shrank. The contents cried out as several painful sounding cracks snapped and many of their bones began protruding in at odd angles. Yes, so easy, much easier than dealing with the shadow dogs. Now-

Adrian gasped as he realized exactly what he was doing. He dropped the bubble without a second thought, Serena and Greg falling to the ground with soft groans. He covered his mouth with his hand, the other one sputtering out apologies that no one understood. He- he almost  _ killed _ those people. They- they hadn’t done anything to him, they just wanted to know who he was and what he was doing. 

“No!” The man who wasn’t there shouted. “Kill them! They’re still down, do it now!”

Adrian ground his teeth, whirling around to face him. “Shut up! Those are people! Not bugs, not chicken- people! Their lives are precious and I won’t kill them!” He summoned green shield, ramming it through the specter of his tormentor. The apparition dissipated without a trace left behind.

Max was staring at the huffing child with an appropriate amount of horror, scrambling over and trying to drag his friends away. Adrian collapsed onto the ground, still breathing hard, but with no intent left of hurting them.

Adrian barely recognized himself anymore. The maze was changing him... but how? The boy summoned his soul, bringing up his EXP and LV. The shadow beasts didn’t have a soul, even a tiny soul without access to magic like animals, they were just made of magic, and so they couldn’t raise his EXP. LV, though, didn’t always have to be affected directly by EXP, and low and behold, it had risen from 2 to 9. That explained a lot.

Adrian slammed his fist into the ground, focusing on the pain as his knuckles split and bled. He would not let his LV change him, and he sure as hell wouldn’t let the Arch-mage change him either. He would not forget everything his mother had instilled in him so easily. He would not become someone that could not face her. His LV might be higher, and he was sure it would only climb as time went on, but he wouldn’t kill. His EXP was nonexistent and it would stay that way, he promised himself that.

“You’re too weak for that.” The man that wasn’t there hissed, already back. “You’ll kill if I tell you to, don’t lie to yourself. After all, you can’t face her if she’s dead. Besides, don’t you want to kill me, Boy?”

“You’re right.” Adrian whispered, staring at the back of his hand as blood slipped down it. “I will kill you whenever I get the chance because that’s what you deserve, but no one else. I will kill you, I will save her, and then we’ll live happily ever after.”

“You’re stupid and naive if you believe that.” He replied, rolling his eyes, “but if it keeps you somewhat sane then I guess it’s as good a motivation as any.”

“What is the meaning of this?” The Arch-mage snapped as he slammed open the door to his library, face dark. His gaze swept over his injured students and settled on Adrian. “You.”

Adrian stared at him blankly. He had almost forgotten about the real one.

The Arch-mage spun to face Max. “Take them to the infirmary.” He ordered, stepping out of the doorway. “I’ll deal with him.”

Max nodded, his eyes becoming blue as he lifted the others with wobbly magic and began guiding them out of the room. He stopped beside the Arch-mage, openly glaring at the man in anger. “You have some explaining to do.” The Arch-mage sighed, and Adrian waited for him to strike the boy for speaking to him so disrespectfully. But he just dismissed him with the wave of his hand, slamming the door behind him.

“I let you rest, and what do you do? Disrespect me and my house.” The Arch-mage’s voice was quiet, dark, and Adrian found himself squirming under that pinning gaze. Suddenly, the Arch-mage was towering above him, freezing him with purple magic. “I should kill you for hurting my actual worthwhile students, but alas, the church is very adamant about recruiting you once your training is complete. So, I’ll just kill-”

“No!” Adrian shouted, the word distorted as his mouth was only open a sliver and he couldn’t really move his tongue.

The Arch-mage’s expression didn’t change in the slightest, but he did lean back, steepling his fingers together. “Well, then, I supposed I could do something else.”

Adrian did not like where this was going, but he didn’t have much choice in the matter.

“You will be whipped in twenty-five sets of twenty. After each set, a healer will heal you, and you will go through another.” The Arch-mage had begun looking bored again and was absently tapping his finger against his arm. “Everytime you cry out, I will add another set. The church wants you alive, after all, but they never said anything about sane.”

Adrian was about to make some wise quip about already having lost his sanity, but he was still frozen with purple magic. The Arch-mage didn’t release him, just suspended him behind him with blue magic as he brought him to the training lot. He ordered a servant scurrying past to bring the whipping post for him, and Adrian tried to shiver but still couldn’t. The servant did as told, and the Arch-mage slammed the plank of wood into the ground with blue magic so that it stood firmly. Like a horseman from the apocalypse, the horrible instrument stood against the light of the setting sun, ready for its purpose of pain.

At least Adrian knew that if he could survive this, he could probably survive anything the Arch-mage threw at him.

“Do you believe you are really that strong?” The man that wasn’t there asked as the boy was tied to the pole. “Do you really believe I am so merciful?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry if this seems a bit rushed, I'm trying to get through fifteen more years of Gaster's life in not very many chapters all considering. I think I might add chapter titles too, to help myself navigate some if nothing else. Also, I promise that this story will stop being so angsty at some point, the next chapter should actually be more light-hearted.  
> Also also, online summer school is very boring and motivation draining, someone please help me xD


	16. Where's the Ribbon...

The stench of burning blood and flesh still clogged his nostrils as the dream faded, leaving him clutching the sides of his bed. He heard screaming, and it took him a moment to realize the sound was coming from him. He forced his mouth shut, limiting himself to just ragged breathing. After a moment, he managed to work up the courage to sit up, not entirely sure what would be waiting for him when he did. To his relief and embarrassment, Sans was sitting there and looking at him like he had lost his mind, which to his credit, he might have at some point.

They watched each other in silence, Gaster not really paying attention while Sans looked positively terrified. It didn’t really matter though, if Sans was okay that meant Lytle was probably okay. He blinked as he realized that he remembered the dreams, and wasn’t sure if it was better that he did or not. But he did, and he supposed he couldn’t change that. Focusing on the logic of the situation calmed the doctor a bit, forcing the lingering gruesome details to the back of his mind to let them haunt him later.

“Uh,” Sans said eventually once he realized that he was talking to Gaster and the man wasn’t the kind to break the silence first, “You okay there, Gaster?”

“Yes.” Gaster replied, his gaze drifting down to rest on the exposed wound on his stomach. He was confused, though not startled, at the sight before belatedly remembering the spar with the Arch-mage and its usual ending. He tentatively poked at the thick, dark blood clot that wasn’t quite completely scabbed yet.

“You sure?” Sans pressed, looking the doctor up and down. “You kind of woke up screaming.”

“Just a dream.” Gaster said absently, letting his hand fall away. He wasn’t sure how long he had been out, but whatever the amount of time it had been was too long. He had too much too do and too much to lose by just lying here sleeping.

“Must have been a pretty intense dream.” Sans said, his voice having an uncharacteristic edge to it. “Wanna tell me what happened?”

Gaster shrugged, swinging his legs over the edge of his rickety bed and stretching his stiff limbs. His abdomen protested at the movement, but he ignored the pain like he had been trained to. After all the sleep, his soul was beginning to buzz with magic again, so when he tried to push it into Battle, it reluctantly slipped into the mode. “The Arch-mage killed you and Lytle.”

Sans blinked at Gaster, opening his mouth several times but clamping it shut again. Finally he said, “Well, that’s not good.”

Gaster, feeling more awake, managed a wry smile. “No, it’s not.” Gaster sighed, running a hand over his face and preparing himself mentally for the process of standing.

“What are you doing?” Sans asked, climbing to his feet. “I don’t think you should be moving around.”

Gaster waved a hand. “It’s fine, I need to put on bandages and get back to work.”

Sans frowned, crossing his arms. “You’re not going to work until you’re healed up, Lytle said so and that captain agreed.”

Gaster stared at the skeleton as he processed the information. He... didn’t have to work? Then what was he supposed to do? Just sit here and do nothing? He couldn’t remember the last time he really had free time to just do whatever he wanted.

Did he even know what he wanted anymore? A picture of fiery hair, dazzling eyes, and a broad smile flashed through his head.

Gaster’s attention was brought back to Sans as the monster cocked his head, sloppily imitating some of Gaster’s hand signs. Gaster quickly clasped his hands in his lap since his robes were gone and his trousers had no pockets. “What are you doing?”

Sans shrugged. “It’s just cool, don’t you think? You know a language that only a few people do.”

Gaster looked down at his pales hands. They looked so normal, just hands. _But you know what those hands have done, don’t you Gaster? What they haven’t done?_ The voices still crooned in the back of his head. He closed his eyes, telling himself that the voices were just voices and they couldn’t hurt him any more. Still, doubts lingered like fog in his mind. “Why don’t you hate me?”

Sans inhaled sharply, and his tone was cautious. “What do you mean?”

“This always happens.” He continued, remembering faces, faces that had no trace of humanity in them and were all the better for it. “The monsters start off quiet and difficult and hate me, but then... they just stop.” Gaster shook his head. “I can’t understand why.”

Sans shrugged. “Monsters are just different than humans, I think. We can't maintain hate like a human.”

“But why?” Gaster asked, hating how pained his voice sounded in his ears. “I've done such awful things, Sans. I'm the reason so many monsters are dead. How... how can you sit there while I sleep and just let me live knowing what I'm capable of?”

Sans shrugged. “I honestly don't have the answers, doc.”

Gaster ran a hand over his face, sighing. Right. Emotions were messy, he knew that, prone to contradict each other and muddle logic and objectivity. The sooner he purged them from his mind, the better. Maybe then he could actually work- but, no, he couldn't work even if he could suppress his emotions. Lytle was ordering bed rest, and the captain was allowing it.

He fingered the corner of his blanket, wondering if he should break the silence that had settled over the two once again. Luckily, he didn’t have to as the door was thrown open violently in its usual fashion. Lytle sauntered in, smile bright even with dark bags under her eyes.

“You’re up! That’s good, how are you feeling?” She chirped, plopping down onto the ground next to Sans.

Before Gaster could respond, Sans raised a brow bone at the healer. “You’re awfully cheery.”

Lytle shrugged, smile not diminishing in the slightest. “It’s a beautiful day outside. The rain has stopped and the air is crisp and it just feels like it’s going to be a good day.”

Gaster felt like he was forgetting something at the mention of rain, but couldn’t quite place his finger on what it was. It infuriated him to no end, but no matter how annoyed he became, his memory simply wouldn’t cooperate. “Can you finish healing me? Sans won’t let me get up while I’m still hurt.”

Lytle’s smile finally died and a grimace took its place. “Why do you want to get up so badly? I thought you would appreciate some time off.”

Gaster shook his head even as the action made him a bit dizzy. “I don’t like just sitting around. Besides, I have to do something.”

“Oh really?” The healer crossed her arms. “What?”

It was Gaster’s turn to grimace. “I don’t remember.” At Lytle’s look he quickly added. “But it was something important.”

Lytle sighed, sharing a look with Sans. The monster shrugged, evidently amused by the two humans. She rolled her eyes, at the skeleton or at Gaster the doctor wasn’t sure. She complied though, moving over to him and eyeing his wound while her glowing green hands worked their magic. The wound closed up, leaving just another jagged line of pink in its wake on his stomach and back. The doctor rolled his shoulders, grabbing his robe from its crumpled heap on the floor. He wasn’t sure which one of them had taken it off of him, but he didn’t think he wanted to. He just muttered a spell, mending the cut fabric and dispersing the blood. He checked to make sure his trousers weren’t stiff with blood before slipping the robe back on and standing up, smoothing out any creases in the cloth. Lytle stood with him, and Sans did too eventually. The healer cocked her head at him. “So, what are you going to do now?”

“Go to my lab.” Gaster said, brow furrowed. That was the obvious answer, wasn’t it?

Lytle huffed but didn’t say anything. Gaster put a magic-cancelling spell on Sans, ignoring the monster’s dubious look as he did so. If he didn’t, the Arch-mage would sense the skeleton out and about and kill him without question. The only reason he hadn’t already was because he was probably still asleep. The skeleton grunted, but otherwise didn’t make any noise. The doctor opened the door, relishing in the fresh, cold air and leading the party back to their usual place.

People still parted for him as he walked like he was a leper, but now they did so with curious glances and soft whispers. They had seen him weak and injured, no doubt, or had at least heard about it. Not much happened in a camp mainly meant for training and supplies, so when something odd happened word travelled fast. It was inconveniencing for the doctor, to say the least. He had a reputation, an image, to uphold if he wanted people to fear him and not ask too many questions. But of course, why else would the Arch-mage do what he did when he knew he had already won?

Gaster, lost in thought over how he could fix this as he walked, accidentally bumped into a boy loitering by the entrance to his lab. The doctor bit his tongue to keep from muttering an apology, staring down at the child. The child, in turn, gazed back up at him, awkwardly rubbing the arm the doctor had bumped into. Gaster narrowed his eyes, racking his brain for where he had seen this boy before...

“Um, hello, Dr.Gaster.” The boy said, twisting his toe in the still damp earth. “The rain has stopped.”

That was it! Gaster unconsciously signed a small **Aha!** as he finally remembered what he had to do. Integrity soul modifications. He didn’t like it, but at least he knew what he was had forgotten.

The boy watched Gaster’s signs nervously. “Uh, I-I brought all the other Integrity souls I could find.” He said, motioning over his shoulder to where about thirty men milled about, chatting and doing whatever else normal humans did when they congregated.

The doctor nodded, his hands moving along with his words. “Good. I will see to them first then be with you.”

The doctor blinked, turning to Sans and Lytle as he remembered the two were still with them. Both of them looked like they might be sick, Lytle turning a pale shade of green. So unlike her eyes, Gaster noticed, which were dark and lush like evergreen trees. The doctor shook his head to dismiss the thought, focusing back on what was happening. “Don’t worry, Lytle, it won’t be anything like with the monster. That experiment was to the extreme; these modifications will only add enough magic to a human’s soul for a handful of powerful spells or a barrage of weak ones.”

They both relaxed a little, but still looked uneasy. The doctor didn’t have the time to pamper them though, they would just have to deal with the emotions. The men backed up warily as they approached, allowing Gaster and his followers to enter the lab to begin getting things ready. Lytle went to her stool, staring at the ground with haunted eyes. Sans went into his cage before he even seemed to realize what he was doing, not faring any better than the healer. In the emptiness in his chest, Gaster thought he should feel pity perhaps, or guilt maybe, but as it was he couldn’t feel much of anything. Maybe he should be concerned about that.

He brought out his instruments, not that he needed much more than his syringe. But something inside him fluttered to life, a twist in his chest that made him smirk, when he did. He opened the door, ushering in the first victim. The man looked around the lab with obvious fear, wiping his palms on his trousers repeatedly as the doctor filled his syringe with only an eighth of the artificial Integrity he injected Sans with. Gaster did not say anything as he gripped the man’s soul in blue magic, pulling it out of his chest by force. The man blanched, gripping the hem of his tunic. Gaster smiled, a wrong crescent that broke his face into an eerie mask. He stabbed the syringe into the man’s soul, watching as his body convulsed. The doctor kept him upright with blue magic until the man could stand on his own again in a few moments, smiling in nervous relief when he realized he was still alive. He walked out without speaking a word to the doctor, eager to tell his companions that he had lived and it was safe.

Each encounter was just going through the motions for the doctor. They came in, he played off their fear of him for the spark of feeling it gave him, injected them with a bit of Integrity, then sent them on their merry way. The boy was the last to come in, a smile on his face in his false sense of security. There was a reason why he saved prospective mages for last.

Gaster filled the syringe to its maximum, just as he had with Sans. The boy didn’t say anything, just grinned at the doctor, oblivious to what was to come. Gaster actually wanted to feel bad about what he was about to do, but that wasn’t who he was. Adrian would have felt bad, Adrian was a good person. But Gaster... Gaster wasn’t Adrian anymore. That good person had died the moment he had gained LV and left a hollow shell walking around with his face.

The boy screamed as the Integrity was injected into his soul, fighting against Gaster’s purple magic as the pain coursed through him. Lytle jumped to her feet, broken out of her stupor by the boy’s cries. “What the hell, Gaster?! I thought you said it wouldn’t be as bad!”

Gaster stared at the healer for a moment, belatedly processing what she said. “Oh, don’t worry about it. The pain might be bad, but the boy’s HP is much higher than Sans’. He’s in no danger.”

Lytle’s hands had balled into shaking fists. “How- how can you say that so callously? I thought-”

Gaster cut the healer off with a dark look, motioning to the boy that might still be able to hear them past his screams. “Don’t speak another word.”

Lytle bit her lip as tears streamed down her face, but she shook her head, sitting back down silently. Gaster glanced at Sans as if daring him to speak against him, but the skeleton seemed to be in a world of his own. Gaster ignored him, instead waiting until the boy had lost consciousness. He felt like he was in one of his dreams, almost, not really there, not really aware of what was going on, like an observer of his own life. He walked through the camp with the boy floating behind him, held aloft with blue magic. He dropped him off at the apprentice’s quarters, leaving when the boy that answered the door started asking what had happened.

When he walked back into the lab, he found Lytle had drug her stool to the center of the room and had moved his chair so it faced it. She was standing with her arms crossed, waiting for him. She pointed at his seat after he had closed the door behind him. “Sit.”

Gaster complied, a hint of curiosity breaking through the indifference.

Lytle sat down on her stool, crossing her legs so she had a pair of matching limbs. She glanced at Sans, who had roused himself from whatever had gotten into him and was watching the exchange curiously. Lytle sighed, regarding Gaster angrily.

“Alright, what’s wrong?” Lytle asked, tapping her finger against her arm. Before he could say anything, she added, “And don’t tell me ‘nothing’, that obviously isn’t true. The Gaster I know isn’t so needlessly cruel.”

Burning flesh. A pile of dust. Gaster shuddered as the details came back to swirl in his mind. Still, it wasn’t anything Lytle needed to worry herself over, it wasn’t like she could do anything to make him forget the dream. Black smoke in the air. Warm blood flowing. Glassy, dead eyes staring at him accusingly.

_You will be the death of her, Gaster._

_Why do you let yourself get close? It’ll only hurt more._

_You should just kill her now and save yourself the trouble._

The voices hissed at him from the darkness of his mind, threatening to drown him. A cool hand on his, giving him a breath of fresh air. Lytle looked into his eyes with concern, tightening her grip on him. “It’s alright, you can talk to me.”

Gaster searched the healer’s face, wondering how such kindness could exist in a place like this with people like him. Gaster wanted to push her away, to beg her to leave him alone so that he couldn’t hurt her. But in the end, Gaster supposed he had always been a selfish creature.

“I had a graphic dream last night.” Gaster responded finally, suddenly feeling uncomfortable under the healer’s gaze. His hands itched to sign along with his words, to have something to do, but he also didn’t want to pull away from Lytle’s touch. “You and Sans died.”

Lytle smiled, much to Gaster’s confusion. “Well, then you don’t need to worry! We’re both alive and well. I know nightmares can be disturbing, but they’re just dreams. It’ll pass soon enough, and I bet tomorrow you won’t even remember it!”

Gaster looked away, unable to meet her gaze and contradict her. He didn’t want to tell her how awful it was or how real it seemed, but he did feel better, surprisingly, now that he had told her. He nodded, taking his hand back, mind whirling. He went to his desk, digging around in the drawer for a clean sheet of paper. When he sat back down with the item in his hand, Lytle looked at him unimpressed.

“Already back to work, then? Well, fine, no thanks necessary. I hope you feel better at least.” She moved to stand, but Gaster snapped, bringing both her and Sans’ attention to his hands. He could feel souls outside, eavesdropping on what he said with their magic. He couldn’t speak to Lytle _and_ Sans with them listening, but Lytle also couldn’t talk to Sans about sensitive subjects with them there.

Good thing Gaster knew how to speak without a voice.

 **You want to help Sans escape, right?** Gaster signed. On the paper, the signs appeared with what they meant underneath in monster. Lytle and Sans blinked, before they both grinned at the doctor. **People are eavesdropping, so you can’t speak verbally about it, but this will work just as well, I think.**

Lytle and Sans nodded eagerly, the skeleton obviously relieved. Gaster nodded once in return, summoning a pair of spectral hands that moved closer to Sans so the skeleton could clearly see what the doctor was signing. **Usually, I would have to work, but according to Sans, I have some free time.** Lytle nodded slowly, her eyes darting back and forth between the signs his hands were making and the paper listing what they meant. **So, we have a few days where I can teach you.**

Lytle and Sans grinned.

* * *

 

This was much easier than Sans expected. Watching the doctor sign had made the language seem difficult. Each sign was defined, yet each flowed gracefully into the next. It had looked hard, but once Gaster started showing them the basics, it was actually very simple.

The signs usually didn’t have anything to do with the word they were attached to which was the hard part. ‘Yes’ was tapping your index finger on the palm of your other hand, ‘no’ was tapping twice. ‘Good morning’ was clasping your hands together in front of your chest, ‘good afternoon’ was clasped in front your stomach, ‘good night’ was downward with your arms straight. Sans was catching on quickly, absorbing the information like a sponge. Lytle was having a harder time. Once they began moving on to harder signs and connecting them together, Gaster would have to stop and tweak her movements several times. Lytle wasn’t the type to become flustered or annoyed though, she just seemed happy to finally be learning something.

They stopped for lunch, having learned several phrases and words that they would need to know for the near future like run, wait, guard, entrance, exit, hide. Lytle volunteered to go get some food from the mess hall, leaving just Gaster and Sans in the lab.

Sans tried not to, but he found himself repeatedly staring at Gaster as the man signed thoughtfully to himself. The skeleton could recognize a few of the words now, but not enough to form an idea of what the human was rambling on to himself about. But whatever it was had to be some pretty deep stuff because the human seemed, for the first time since Sans had known him, truly distraught.

Sans cleared his throat, drawing the human's attention. It took a moment, but his gaze focused on Sans, grounded and aware, unlike earlier. Sans suppressed a shudder when he remembered the terrifyingly vacant eyes the doctor had this morning, like the eyes of a dead man. At least he seemed to be doing better now.

 **Why are you-** Sans stopped, realizing that he didn't know the words for what he wanted to say, but Gaster caught his drift.

 **Helping,** The man signed repeatedly, slowly so Sans could see what he was doing, **Why am I helping you?** Sans nodded. Gaster took on that troubled expression again, signing back slowly, so that Sans could follow along on the paper. **I'm not entirely sure myself, it is very risky for me. More so than for Lytle, the church does not pay much attention to her. But...** Gaster looked at the ceiling, as if the reason he was doing it was scrawled somewhere up there. **But, I don't want to see another monster die. And without my help, you most probably will.**

Sans wanted to sign back a sarcastic response, but didn't know the words for what he had in his skull. So, Sans just signed back a small, **Thanks.**

Gaster watched the movement, the pained expression melting away. He simply nodded, looking away. His hands began to flutter and move again, but the doctor didn't translate these ones. Sans decided not to press the man for what he was saying.

Lytle returned shortly after that with lunch, handing a tray to each person though Gaster didn’t touch his food. They continued learning more words for a while longer, before Gaster looked at Lytle. **Magic?**

Lytle blinked at the question, looking at the man’s hands like they were lying children tempting her with the promise of sweet candy. She met the doctor’s gaze, and apparently satisfied with what she found there, grinned from ear to ear. **Please!**

The doctor actually gave a soft chuckle, making Sans and Lytle share a look. **Alright, but we’ll continue using signs, that way you get more practice with them. If you have a question but don’t know the right signs for it, just speak it out loud and I’ll show you them.** Lytle nodded excitedly, bouncing up and down in her seat. Sans rested his skull in his hand, sighing. He already knew magic, so this would probably be incredibly boring, but it’s not like he had much else to entertain himself with. So, he paid attention, to practice signs like Gaster said if nothing else.

The first thing Gaster went over is what the healer had to understand about magic: it was not an all-powerful force of destruction and creation. It obeyed rules and laws, though these boundaries were difficult to find and observe in most cases. All of it seemed to pass right over Lytle’s head, but Gaster said basically she just needed to understand that a person could not do something outside of what you can do with solidified magic and the laws of nature.

He started with runes, which was actually interesting for Sans. He didn’t have much need for them, but most humans relied on them heavily for channeling their magic into a spell. Those and magic words too, actually. Sans knew it had something to do with how monster souls were more attuned to magic or something like that, but he wasn’t sure of the details.

Sans, for the first time, got to see first-hand how hard it was for humans to use magic. Gaster started Lytle with the simplest spell in the book- creating a flash of light. It wasn’t even a ball of light that had to be sustained, just a flash, a small expansion of magic, and then done. The doctor showed the healer how the make the rune, then had her try to channel her magic into it. He told her she had to picture what she wanted to happen, then push her magic into the rune. It was simple enough, to Sans at least, but Lytle struggled for several minutes without any success. Gaster told her not to worry, magic was more unwieldy and difficult for humans. He compared it to cooking, how in the beginning you really don’t have any idea what you’re doing, but as you progress you can understand and do things that you hadn’t even been taught. He showed her some more basic runes for the different magic types, and told her to practice making the runes. Lytle seemed a little disappointed, but there was still that characteristic fire in her eyes and Sans knew she’d be alright.

Sans snapped his finger, what he had learned was the universal attention drawer in Gaster’s sign language. **Green?** He asked the doctor, hoping he would understand with the skeleton’s limited vocabulary.

The doctor narrowed his eyes, and Sans could practically see his mind spinning. Finally he nodded, a small smile twitching at his lips, though the two had lost Lytle.

 **The base of your soul is green.** The doctor explained to the healer. **Why don’t we try having you summon a green shield? You might have more luck with that than with the light.**

The healer pursed her lips as she shuffled through the pages the doctor had given her, pulling out the page with the basic green rune. She furrowed her brow in concentration, glaring at the rune like it had offended her.

Sans snapped again, drawing Gaster’s attention once more. **Too much.** The skeleton signed, becoming increasingly flustered with his small pool of words and praying the doctor understood. Gaster was silent for several moments before shrugging. Sans sighed, motioning to his face then pointing at Lytle.

The doctor blinked at the skeleton before his face lit up and he signed a tiny, **Oh!** The man snapped until Lytle looked up at him. **Don’t think about it too much.** Gaster signed, **It should be natural, like breathing out. The rune’s entire purpose is to do all the hard work.**

Lytle chewed on her lip, looking back down at the rune. She closed her eyes, breathing out slowly. Tentatively, a small, standard circle shield flickered to life in front of her. Sans clapped quietly so as not to break the healer’s concentration, goading her into peeking an eye open to see what had happened. She grinned at the shield, looking from it to Gaster to Sans and back again before eventually letting her magic disperse. Sans thought the healer’s head might burst if she didn’t speak soon, and Gaster seemed to have the same thought.

“Let’s call it good with signs for the day.” The man said, standing and stretching. He had barely finished the sentence before Lytle began talking.

“Sans! _Sans! Did you see that!?_ I actually used magic! Like real magic that wasn’t my ability. It was so cool!” Lytle said, jumping up and down, her grin only growing bigger with each passing second.

Sans chuckled. “Yeah, it was cool. Soon you’ll be able to do some really cool things with magic.”

Lytle’s grin had grown so big her eyes were closed. She whirled around, hugging Gaster tightly, and Sans laughed as the man blushed, caught off-guard by the healer’s action. Since her head barely reached his chest, he had to awkwardly reach down to pat her on the back, his pale face becoming redder by the second.

 

_“Brudda! Brudda! Look, look! My first bone spell! Isn’t is so cool?”_

_“That’s so cool, Paps. Soon enough you’ll be doing some really cool stuff. You’re doing great!”_

 

Sans’ smile died as the memory surfaced, a ghost from a time past. No, that wasn’t true. Lytle and Gaster were helping him, they would get him out of here. He had to have faith that they would, had to have faith they would help him see his baby brother again.

“You kind of remind me of him, actually.” Sans mused out loud. Lytle released Gaster, turning to the skeleton questioningly.

“What did you say?” Lytle asked, sitting back down at her stool. Gaster quickly turned his chair around and began working on something, embarrassed.

“My little brother.” Sans clarified, rubbing the back of his cranium. He didn’t mean to say that out loud, and he certainly didn’t mean for Lytle to hear it.

“You have a little brother?” Lytle’s eyes were positively sparkling in wonder. “Can you tell me about him?”

Sans smiled, remembering what the healer said what felt like a lifetime ago. “Yeah. My brother is really something. He’s always smiling and happy, always helping and cheering others up around him too. He’s not as good at magic as some of the other monsters his age, but he has this amazing knack for puzzles. He loves to cook, too, though he’s still too young to be doing that by himself. He’s,” Sans stopped, swallowing past a lump in his metaphorical throat, “he’s really great. I love him a lot.”

Lytle, perfect, positive Lytle, smiled at the monster. **No worry.** She signed, the motions a little timid and imprecise. **You will escape.** Sans looked away, nodding. Lytle bit her lip.

“Something wrong there, Lytle?” Sans asked when he looked back up at her and noticed the wistful look on her face.

“What-” She stared at her hands as she signed along with what she said, the words she knew at least, “What do you think my brother is like?”

It was Sans’ turn to comfort the healer. He reached past the bars of his cell, resting a skeletal hand on the girl’s knee. “I don’t know. But whatever he’s like, I’m sure he’s amazing and really wants to meet you.”

Lytle sniffled slightly, smiling. “I hope so. I really want to meet him too.” She glanced over her shoulder at Gaster. “Do you have any siblings, Gaster?”

Gaster shook his head, ducking down closer to his desk. Sans laughed as Lytle looked at the man in bewilderment, shrugging eventually when he didn’t look up at them. She continued, slowly tearing her gaze back to Sans. “What about your parents?”

Sans grinned as he thought of them. “My mom is a soldier and my dad is a doctor. My mom is actually terrifying and fierce, really likes to fight and prove her strength. She’s actually the leader of her own unit back in the monster army. She almost always sounds like she’s shouting, but that’s just her resting voice volume. She’s nice though, and really loves children. Before the war started, she said she was planning on having eight children.” Lytle playfully made a face at that, but didn’t interrupt as the skeleton went on to describe his father. “And my dad... my dad is a bit of a worrywart, actually. Always concerned about you and nervous about something. He’s kind of shy actually, but he loves jokes and wordplay. My dad helped heal a lot of monsters, but when the king announced that the children were to be taken to a safe hiding place away from the war, my dad was one of the monsters selected to go with them.”

“Wow.” Lytle said, her voice spinning in wonderment like a child’s. She straightened, tiling her head back as she began sharing with the monster about her parents. “Let’s see, my mom and dad are just farmers, growing little more than what we need. My dad likes to go around and help out around the town, fixing houses for families who can’t afford to pay a carpenter. My mom is a great cook, even with the little food we grow her meals always taste good! Once the war is over, maybe she can show your brother a few things!”

Sans smiled, “Yeah, I think he would like that. Say, Gaster, I know about the Prick in Purple, but what about your mom? What’s she like?”

Gaster froze. Lytle wasn’t looking at the doctor yet though. “Yeah, you never told me much about your mother. What’s she like?”

Gaster didn’t turn around. His voice was hushed, haunted. “Kind. The kindest person to ever walk this earth. Always ready to help, always ready to forgive, even if you don’t deserve it. Everyone in our town hated her for practicing magic, hated her for raising a devil’s child, but she was always there for them when they were sick or hurt.” The doctor’s voice grew even softer, if that was possible, drawing Lytle and Sans in deeper. “She loved life, and the stars, and flowers. Whenever she was sad, I would make her a wreath of flowers and take her out to watch the sunset, and she would feel better. She always supported me in learning magic, and she taught me everything she knew about that and about herbs. She’s the best person I know.”

Sans blinked as the doctor stopped talking, suddenly understanding what drove the man forward. He loved his family, the only person who had ever been there for him. He just wanted to protect her. It wasn’t his fault, what he was doing. Other humans were making him do this, their dirty work.

“What do you two think is going to happen, exactly?” Gaster said, turning around. His eyes were becoming dangerously empty again.

“Um,” Lytle said dumbly, startled by the man’s sudden change in attitude, “What do you mean?”

“After the war.” Gaster said, turning his chair to face them. “What do you think will happen? If humans win, or if by some miracle, monsters win?”

Lytle blinked, and Sans scratched his head. “I’ve never really thought about it much.” The skeleton admitted. “As far as I know, monsters are just fighting until humans decide not to anymore. We don’t really want to fight.”

Gaster nodded, a bit of clarity returning to his eyes as he spoke. Maybe it had to do with how in the moment the man was, Sans thought. “Exactly. Monsters are just waiting for it to blow over. If they win, they’ll probably want to establish peace again, but humans will still hate them. And humans have an ability to hold on to hatred like no other creature, letting it brew until it explodes and this all happens again. But what if humans win?” The doctor looked at Lytle expectantly.

“W-Well,” The healer began, face troubled. “Humans hate monsters, so the entire purpose of the war is to cut down a large portion of their population and...” Lytle only seemed more troubled as she spoke, crossing her arms and staring at the ground.

“You see now, don’t you?” Gaster asked sadly. Sans looked between the two humans in confusion. Gaster explained. “Humans hate monsters. It’s as simple as that. They will not stop until they are all dead.”

Sans felt his soul stop cold. “You can’t be serious.”

Gaster shrugged, though the movement was subdued, like weights were attached to his shoulders. “I don’t know for certain, but is what makes the most sense.”

Sans was too shocked to protest. It... made sense, which was the most horrifying part. The way humans looked at him, the way they said ‘monster’, the way they killed mercilessly. The skeleton gripped his collar bone with both hands, breathing hard. “Monsters can’t afford to lose.”

“It would seem that way.” Gaster said. “But I also don’t see a way for them to win. Your species doesn’t clutch their hatred close and let it consume them. You would never exterminate humans just because we are humans, and if you don’t, humans will only come back to fight again, over and over until we win.” Gaster laughed mirthlessly. “What else is our damn Determination good for?”

They all fell silent, simply taking comfort in each other’s presence while reality came crashing in around them. Eventually, Lytle bid the two an airy goodnight and left. Gaster returned to his work, and Sans curled up on his bedroll, staring at the wall and wondering how anything could possibly go right.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you that check the tumblr for updates, I’m feeling better now, so here’s a chapter. And, since the beautiful, wonderful Grumpy_Old_Snake suggested like 500 awesome songs to write to, I should have inspiration for many of the chapters yet to come. Hopefully I’ll get another chapter out this week to make up for skipping out last week.  
> Whew, guys I think we’re almost done with P1-1 and will be moving on to P1-2 shortly! Maybe like 5 chapters, I’m estimating, not including any flashback chapters, which will be like another three. Which means that heartbreak is right around the corner, guys! Are you ready? ;)


	17. What Is This Fluff You Speak Of

A routine quickly became established in the following days. Lytle would come over in the morning, they would work on the sign language for a while, Sans and Lytle would take a break for lunch while Gaster worked on a spell, Gaster would help Lytle with magic, and finally they would talk for a while before Lytle went back to her tent for the night. Truthfully, Gaster rarely had much to say and just worked on spells most of the time, but he enjoyed listening to Lytle and Sans talk of lighthearted subjects. None of them brought up anything about the war since the first night. 

By the time his week of rest was over and Gaster had to once again devote most of his time to creating spells, Lytle and Sans knew enough words to be able to begin planning his escape. Gaster refused to be involved in the plan in any way. He had come this far without getting his mother killed, he couldn’t just let the last sixteen years go to waste now. He still gave Lytle magic lessons, but they were shorter than before, involving more practice on her own than being guided by him. He taught more signs only when they asked him to, which was often, as they seemed to take a liking to the strange language.

“What about you, Sans?” Lytle asked from behind the doctor. It was Saturday night, a little over two weeks since Gaster’s spar with the Arch-mage, and the trio had begun their talk, though Gaster was just trying to finish up this spell. He had already done the spell for the week, something simple with blue magic, and now was trying to work out one of his pet projects. It felt like he was so _close,_ he just couldn’t figure out the last couple of lines.

“What about me?” Sans asked between mouthfuls of dinner. Gaster realized he had never really observed the skeleton eat before, and was suddenly curious how a creature with no throat swallowed and with no mouth chewed. He shook his head, though, unwilling to be distracted from the spell.

“Any special someones back home?”

“Oh.” Sans was silent for a moment. “Not really. There was this one monster I liked, a phoenix girl, but it would never work out.”

“Because she’s a phoenix?” Lytle asked, and Gaster could practically hear her eyebrow climb higher on her forehead.

“What? No.” Sans sounded bewildered, like Lytle had just asked if the sky was silver. “That doesn't make a difference. No, she just wasn’t interested in me.”

Gaster triumphantly drew on another line, that much closer to being done. He had wanted to finish this spell for forever, from back when he first had a little free time when Sans was recovering. “So how does, uh- I mean, how do monsters make... children?” Lytle asked tentatively.

Sans laughed. “Not like humans, I can tell you that much. Uh, you and a partner get together and use small parts of your souls to create a new one, then use your magic and some dust to create a body.”

“Is that really it?” Lytle asked, voice a bit skeptical.

“Yeah, pretty much.” Sans said, a soft rustling of cloth indicating he shrugged. “I mean, after that the baby will just feed off of food and magic and grow into an adult monster, just like a human baby does. Though there isn’t really a set amount of time in which they grow up.”

“Really?” Lytle was quiet for a moment. “Huh. That’s actually pretty interesting. So, how old are you?”

“I’m about thirty-two, but I’m the human equivalent of, like, twenty.”

“Woah.” Lytle said. “How does that work?”

“I’m... not sure actually.” Sans replied, a soft grinding, clicking sound indicating he was scratching the back of his head again. “I’d have to ask my mom, I never really asked how it was calculated. It has to do with how aged your soul is, I think? And apparently, it’s usually slower for monsters.”

Lytle grunted thoughtfully, and they lapsed into silence for a while. Gaster seized the opportunity to concentrate on the spell, finally drawing the last two lines needed. He held up the paper, scrutinizing the product, but he already knew it was functional, if not practical. A spell of this caliber would need tweaking to find ways to minimize the amount of magic it required, since as it was now, Gaster could probably barely use it. And it would probably harm him at that.

He grinned, tucking the sheet into a drawer to test it later. He wasn’t entirely sure what he would do with the spell; he couldn’t dare risking giving something so powerful to humans, but he also didn’t have a use for it. And while he would love to give it to Sans before the monster left, it still felt wrong. Gaster was a human, Sans was a monster.

“Have you ever thought of getting married?” Lytle asked suddenly, and Gaster whirled around. The question was directed at Sans though, who shrugged.

“I mean, I’ve thought of it before, but never really  _ thought _ of it before. Know what I mean?” Lytle furrowed her brow, nodding. “What about you? Isn’t marriage a big deal for humans?”

“Is it not a big deal for monsters?” Lytle asked, expression dubious.

“Not really.” Sans replied. “I mean, humans even have this weird view of gender, right? Monsters don’t even really have a gender, humans just felt more comfortable with their labels. If two people really love each other, they can get married, but it’s just more like a big show of their love than anything binding or meaningful. That’s already been taken care of in their relationship.”

Gaster cocked his head at the information, but Lytle made a face. “That’s weird... and kind of gross, if you ask me. But I’m not a monster and don’t know how your society works, so I won’t judge. As for your earlier question, yes, marriage is a big deal for humans. We have short lives, and it says in the bible that a man and a woman may only sleep together and have children if they are married.”

“How old do humans usually live to?” Sans inquired.

“Well,” Gaster began, saving Lytle the trouble of explaining it, “Magic, as I’m sure you know, has an immune effect, making it harder for a person with access to it to become ill. However, as most humans don’t have much access to magic, they usually die from disease by the age of thirty.”

Sans grimaced. “Yeesh, that’s rough. I guess getting married quick and having children is vital then.”

“You can say that again.” Lytle muttered with a sigh.

“I take it you’re not married yet.” Sans said, voice caught somewhere between a comment and a question.

“No,” Lytle said, tone bitter, “I’m not. Girls my age should already be rearing children too. I’m twenty.” She added before Sans or Gaster could ask. The girl glanced sheepishly at Gaster. “You’re not married are you?”

Gaster grimaced. “I am actually.”

Lytle and Sans snapped to attention, startled. “What?!” They exclaimed at the same time.

“Yes.” Gaster answered gravely. “To my work.”

The duo stared at him for several long moments before Lytle began to giggle. “Wow, you’re making jokes now? Who _ are _ you? You’re obviously not Gaster, the infamous Doctor of Death.” The healer playfully hissed his title with a dramatic flare.

“You really got me for a second there, doc.” Sans said, smirking. “I guess the delivery of that joke went off without a  _ hitch. _ ”

Gaster found himself smiling, even as Lytle frowned in confusion. “Sorry, Sans, Lytle did  _ knot _ find that funny.”

“What?” Lytle looked between the two, completely baffled.

Sans chuckled at the healer. “Alright, alright, what do you call a melon that can’t get married?”

Lytle was looking back and forth between them. “Wait, are we making marriage jokes or-”

“What?” Gaster asked, leaning forward.

“Cantaloupe!” Sans delivered the punchline with an enthusiastic, skeletal grin. Gaster chuckled, tapping his chin.

“Excuse me?” Lytle pushed herself between the two. “I’m still here, you two. Now stop with the wordplay, you’re giving me a headache.” Sans looked at Gaster questioningly, and Gaster signed a small  **Stop** . Sans giggled, but didn’t say anything to agitate the healer further. Lytle huffed, grinning and sitting back. “You two are a handful.”

“Come on Lytle, just remain  _ palm _ .” Sans replied instantly, earning a glare from the healer. “Okay, I’ll stop now, but you walked into that one.”

“I can’t deal with you two.” The healer whined, still grinning. “I’m going to sleep before you can launch another barrage of your so-called jokes.” Sans opened his mouth to say something, but Lytle quickly silenced him with another glare.

“Don’t you ever get tired of sleeping?” Gaster asked, face completely serious.

Lytle stomped away, flinging the door open and not bothering to close it after her. She shouted over her shoulder, “Never again! I hate both of you!”

Gaster and Sans looked at each other before bursting into laughter, granted Gaster’s was more subdued. Gaster stood up to close the door, settling back down into his chair once he had. He couldn’t remember the last time he had had a good bout of wordplay with someone. Definitely never during his training with the Arch-mage, but Edgar had been fond of it, he recalled, though his mother never particularly liked it. She would suffer through it with a smile though, that was just how she was.

“G’night, doc.” Sans yawned, settling down on his bedroll. Gaster blinked at the bony back of the monster. He grinned slowly.

“I’m  _ phalange _ pretty tired myself.” Gaster quipped, standing again. “I think I’ll sleep too.”

Sans snorted, but didn’t roll over. “You’ve got some real  _ spine _ to get into a pun battle with me.”

Gaster shook his head, still smiling. “ _ Tibia _ honest, it’s a little daunting.”

“Well, don’t  _ skullk  _ about it.” Sans responded.

“I don’t know why, though.” Gaster continued, leaning against the wall next to the door. “After all, I can see right through you.”

Sans snorted again. “I see your pun prowess is nothing  _ femur. _ ”

“People  _ calcium _ beat me.”

“That one was a bit of a stretch.” Sans said, finally rolling over to reveal a grinning skull.

“Was it? I guess I do have the  _ tendon _ cy to push things too far.”

Sans chuckled, shaking his head. “Alright, I’m ending this here. I want to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning, doc.”

A pile of dust on the ground next to him. Charred flesh and burnt blood. Gaster forced the smile to remain fixed to his face even as the images assaulted him. “Yes, I’ll see you in the morning.” Gaster dispelled his ball of light, and slipped out, walking to his room. He sat down on his bed, rubbing his eyes. He wasn’t tired, but he needed to go to sleep. He summoned a pair of spectral hands to reach under his bed, where he kept his herbs, taking the items and making something that would force him into unconsciousness.

He had to save them.

* * *

The dream was always the same. Well, not always the same, it depended on what Gaster did, but mostly the same. Ever since the first time he had the dream, every time he slept it happened again, like a trap that he had to step into every night. He knew he was becoming obsessed with the dream, obsessed with finding a way to save them. He would force himself to sleep. The dream never lasted very long either, a couple hours at most, and then he would wake up only to force himself to sleep more. He could usually have the dream three or four times a night before he had to get up, and while he had only slept only few days before he made sure he slept every night now, just until he could find a way to save them.

So far, he had only been able save Sans, which was nice, but Sans wasn’t Lytle. Gaster wanted to save both of them, honestly he did, but at this point Lytle was more important to him. He had tried more ways than he could count to save her. He waited to attack at different times, ran ahead and tried to free her before the burning, walked to stand by the Arch-mage and tried to take him by surprise, but none of it ever worked. 

When Gaster woke up from his place slouched over his desk, he wanted to try something different. He whirled around, gripping the bars of Sans’ cell desperately. The skeleton, who had no idea what was going on, looked that human with concern. “Uh, you alright there, Gaster?”

**Listen to me, Sans** , The doctor forced his hands to release the bars, signing.  **Lytle is in danger. She will die if we do not act.** As much as Gaster loathed relying on others for help, he couldn’t deny that he couldn’t do this by himself, and Sans was all he had.  **When we leave here, I will take you to where the Arch-mage is, and we will kill him. After that, it will be a matter of fighting our way out of the camp.**

Sans watched the doctor in concern.  **How do you know?**

**You just have to trust me.** Gaster signed frantically, hands shaking. This  _ had _ to work. There was little else he could do, few things he hadn’t already tried. The skeleton stilled regarded the human with an expression of confusion that may have been comical if the situation was not so dire, but Sans seemed to humor the human, following him as Gaster led him to the Arch-mage.

The Arch-mage wasn’t caught off-guard in the slightest. He could sense Gaster coming, after all, and in the end, there were reasons that man was the Arch-mage. The moment he thought he was in any actual danger, he used light blue magic to incapacitate Gaster and quickly finished Sans off after that.

It still didn’t work. Who was Gaster fooling- it  _ never _ worked. There wasn’t anything that he could do. Yes, Sans and Gaster had lasted longer against the Arch-mage than just Gaster by himself, but when the Arch-mage became serious, there was little Gaster could do to him. Just one light-blue attack and he was on his knees, helpless. Gaster couldn’t be doomed to forever see Lytle die, over and over again, watch her body burn and wither, meet Sans’ look of betrayal every time he died, stare at the mound of white dust, trying to understand how that had been his...

Gaster groaned as his eyes shot open, soul giving a sick lurch. It was alright, everything was alright, it was just a dream. These were just dreams. Just like Lytle said. He shouldn’t fret over them so much, it was just stressing him out and making him more exhausted than usual. But he couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t try everything to save them. They- they were all he had here. They were the first people he had in a long time, and he didn’t want to lose them, even in a dream. He took the sleeping concoction once more, and settled down to try again.

* * *

**Alright, so as long as the guards stick to their schedule, you should be able to get out here.** Lytle drew a circle on her crude map of the camp around a small a hole she had made in the fence a few days ago.  **I've covered the hole with a- a piece of wood.** Lytle continued, pausing as she searched for the word.  **Just push it out of the way, and you should be alright.**

**What about the Arch-mage?** Sans asked, reviewing the map and the escape route he would take. 

**Gaster warned me about him.** Lytle replied with a fond smile.  **Which is why he taught me the magic-cancelling spell for no reason in particular.** Lytle’s smile turned sly.  **So long as he doesn't see you, he won't know you're there.**

**This might actually work** . Sans signed, a smile slowly creeping onto his face.  **Thank you so much, Lytle. I don't know how I can ever repay you.**

Lytle waved a hand dismissively.  **You can repay me by helping win the war for monsters, and bringing your adorable brother so I can meet him. Then I'll be able to meet my brother too.** Lytle’s smile became sad.  **You know, I hope he's like you. You kind of feel like a brother to me.**

Sans grinned.  **Aw, thank you. I'm sure my brother is going to love you, just as much as I do.**

Lytle grinned. She made a small hand motion, nothing Gaster had taught them, but what they had adopted as a ‘heh’.  **Do you-** Lytle stopped, hands shaking slightly. Sans watched in concern, but she continued after a moment,  **Do you think Gaster loves me?**

Sans smirked.  **Isn't it obvious?**

**I guess it is.** Lytle replied after a second.  **Maybe after all of this is over, I can finally get married. And since I don't have to worry about getting sick so much, I'll probably be able to have children too.** She didn't have to say who she was thinking of getting married to. The healer shook her head, sliding the sheet of paper with the plan over to her.  **So, Gaster was telling me you only have about a week before the church wants to, uh, you know.** Sans nodded.  **So, we should probably do it tomorrow, that way you can get a head start. I don't know how much it is, but Gaster agreed to give you all the gold he has. According to him, it should be enough to bribe your way to Italy. There, you should be safe.** Lytle looked up at the skeleton sadly.  **I'm going to miss you.**

**The feeling is mutual. And I think I'll even miss Gaster too. Once I got to know him, he wasn't so bad, and he really does want to help me.** Sans replied, glancing at the doctor as he worked on some spell.  **I hope you two find happiness.**

Lytle blushed, smiling and looking away. A knock on the door drew their attention. Sans glanced at Gaster, but the man didn’t seem concerned in the slightest. The doctor got up, sighing and setting his expression into one of annoyance before he opened the door. A man saluted him as he opened the door.

“Good evening, doctor, I’m sorry to disturb you.” The man said, each word well enunciated.

“I haven’t time for idle chatter.” The doctor snapped, slipping into his ‘evil scientist’ persona. “What is it?”

“New casualty reports.” The man hurriedly replied, “The Arch-mage sent me to tell you.” Sans and Lytle shared a look, before glancing at Gaster. Sans could tell by the way the glow in the man’s eyes dimmed that he was set on edge by the mention of the Prick in Purple.

Gaster gritted out a quiet ‘thank you’ and promptly slammed the door in the messenger's face. Lytle grimaced, arching her eyebrow in a silent ‘why did you do that?’ but didn’t say anything out loud. She cocked her head at Gaster. “What are casualty reports?”

“Every few months, the towns that have been attacked are listed as well as how many survivors there were.” Gaster replied. “The reports are read out loud for those that can’t read, but before that happens, those that can are given the chance to read them.” Gaster crossed his arms, expression grim. “I usually check them, but if the Arch-mage is pointedly summoning me to read them, I can only imagine the worst.”

“You don’t think your mother...?” Lytle trailed off fearfully.

“I don’t know.” Gaster admitted with a sigh. “I’m not sure if she even lives in the same town anymore, or if she were dead, that the Arch-mage would tell me.” The doctor shook his head, straightening his robes. “Well, I should check either way. I’d rather know for certain than fret about it here.”

“I’ll go with you.” Lytle said, standing. Gaster gazed at her for a moment before giving a curt nod. She turned to Sans. “We’ll be back soon.”

“Good.” Sans replied as Gaster opened the door. He hated that he couldn’t follow them, but this was his fate. He would just have to comfort Gaster when he came back. “See you soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: I should really do something other than write bad fanfiction and play Overwatch  
> Me to Me: CAN’T STOP, WON’T STOP  
> So here you guys go. I was going to make you sit through chapters of Gaster’s past, but we’re reaching the end of this part of the story. I want to write it probably more than you want to read it, so I’m postponing past exploration chapters until after this part is over, and I’ll just do several of them inbetween P1-1 and P1-2. Also, since this chapter and the one after it are relatively shorter, I’ll post them together.


	18. I Don't Know What to Do (But I Want to Help)

Gaster itched to walk faster, but Lytle was much shorter than him, though not as short as Sans, and her strides were, in turn, shorter. He just forced himself to pace himself, taking comfort in the proximity of the healer. She caught him giving her a sidelong look and blushed lightly, reaching over and giving his hand a small squeeze. He focused on the coolness of her touch, letting himself relax a bit. Whatever the news was, it couldn’t be that bad, after all. An evil, dark part in the back of the doctor’s mind found relief in the thought that his mother might be dead, that he didn’t have to fight anymore and could just give up. He ducked his head, cursing himself for the thoughts, but grateful that at least no voices were there to torment him as well.

The board the reports were posted on was an old, splintered sign of wood resting a short distance from the castle. A man was just finishing putting up the new numbers, handling each sheet carefully so as not to drop any precious paper. When he caught sight of the doctor, he sneered, looking the man up and down before returning his attention to his work with an expression of distaste. 

Lytle pursed her lips at the cold reception, glancing at Gaster. “So, your mom lives in Germany, right? Shouldn’t she be safe from any of the fighting?”

“Not necessarily.” Gaster replied, watching as the man hammered the last nail into the board. “Though monsters were ran off years ago, there are groups of monsters still living in hiding in many countries. Frequently, they come out and attack villages.”

“That’s awful.” Lytle whimpered. “Those people are innocent.”

**Are they?** Gaster signed back with a grimace.  **They are the ones that ransacked monster homes and chased them from homes their families had lived in for generations. Besides they rarely attack women or children and generally leave farms untouched.**

Lytle watched his hands intently, nodding slowly to show she understood. Once the man had left, Gaster led the healer up to the board. “The name of the town I lived in is Baden.”

“Alright,” Lytle hummed, starting at the other end of the board, “But just because it was attacked doesn’t mean your mother was hurt.”

“You’re right, of course.” Gaster replied absently, scanning the list of names. “But if the Arch-mage wants me to know something, there’s a good chance she’s either hurt or dead.”

Gaster caught Lytle shaking her head out of the corner of his eye. “That’s awful.” She whispered, voice pained. “Remind me again why he hates you so much?”

“I am the cumulation of everything he’s ever done wrong.” Gaster hissed, moving on the next list. “I’m just one huge mistake in his eyes, the one thing that discredited him in his life just by my very existence. It probably wouldn’t have been so bad if I wasn’t proficient at magic, hell, I may have never even met him if the church didn’t order him to take me on as an apprentice. But as it stands, the church wants me to take his place when he dies, and I think that terrifies him, the idea that he might die some day and I’ll be the only legacy he leaves behind.”

Lytle grunted in return, focusing on reading names. She was slower than Gaster, but Gaster was just skimming each name while she actually seemed to be reading each one. A sudden gasp brought Gaster’s attention to her horrified face. “No...” She whimpered breathlessly. “Please no.”

Gaster tried to follow her gaze, but the town names were too bunched together to know exactly what she looking at. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

The girl reached a shaking hand up, pointing at a name in English- Millstone, Gaster was fairly certain that was what it read. “This,” Lytle covered her mouth with her other hand as a sob escaped, “This is my home town.”

Gaster glanced across where the survivor count should be; in its place was only two words scrawled lazily onto the paper:  _ no survivors _ . Gaster froze, uncertain exactly what to do as the healer buried her face in both hands, sobbing uncontrollably. He racked his brain, trying to remember what he had craved for when he was younger and more broken. He remembered he wanted someone to hug him and comfort him, even if they didn’t say anything, just assure him with their presence. So that’s what he did, drew closer and hugged the healer gently. The girl gripped the front of his robes, burying her face into the cloth. After a hesitant moment, the doctor slowly began stroking Lytle’s head, keeping the other arm firmly around her.

“They’re gone.” Gaster more felt than heard her say into his chest. “They’re gone and I never got to say goodbye, never got to see them in their old age. I-” She cut off as a violent sob ripped it way out of her throat, “I never got to meet my baby brother!”

Gaster just kept stroking her head, not sure what words of comfort he could offer the girl that had been there for him these last few weeks. He looked up sharply at the sound of dirt crunched underneath boots, expression darkening at the face that was there to greet him. The Arch-mage tskd slightly, looking down on Lytle’s shuddering form pressed against Gaster’s.

“Good, you’re here.” The sound of his voice was like nails being pounded into his head. “I was hoping you would bring your whore with you. Got the news, I take it?”

Lytle whirled around angrily, hands balled into tight fists at her sides. “How did this happen?” She screeched, tears streaming down her face. “How could you let this happen?”

The Arch-mage merely shrugged in the face of the girl’s hot fury, the epitome of cold indifference. “There was an angry fire elemental hiding somewhere in the countryside. Yours was not the first town to be burnt down in his rampage, but he has been disposed of now.”

“What the hell’s wrong with you?!” Lytle shouted, storming up until her face was inches from the Arch-mage’s. “How can you speak of it so- so  _ flippantly _ !? These were people! These were _ lives _ that were lost because you couldn’t save them! Isn’t that your bloody  _ job _ ? Isn’t that why you’re here instead of at the front lines? So you can stop things like this from happening?!” Lytle drew back slightly, breathing in heavy hiccups and jabbing a finger at the board. “I had a brother back there, a baby brother that I never got to meet because of this bloody war! Because of you!”

The Arch-mage regarded the girl for a moment, before sighing and rolling his eyes. “Positively tragic. Gaster, please keep your pet in check, I’m not in the mood for executions right now.” Gaster stepped up, laying a hand on Lytle’s shoulder. She drew away from his touch, slapping his hand angrily.

“Don’t touch me.” She said, looking from Gaster to the Arch-mage, and with a broken heart Gaster realized she wasn’t seeing Gaster, the man that adored her, but was seeing Gaster, the son of the man that couldn’t protect her family. The man that had failed. “I-I need some time alone.” She stormed off without another word, vigorously scrubbing at her tear-stained face.

Gaster watched her go, unable to bring himself to go after her. She didn’t want to see or talk to him right now, and he needed to respect that. But there was a reason the Arch-mage had done this, had made sure that Lytle would know about the fate of her town and her family. “Why did you do this?” He asked softly, glaring at the man he hated more than anything.

“Well, as I see it,” The Arch-mage said, inspecting his perfectly trimmed nails, “If the girl was attached to you, she would follow you here, learn of the death of her family, and hate you because you’re mine. If she wasn’t, then I had nothing to worry about, since that meant you weren’t feeling attached to her either.”

Gaster almost wanted to ask why the Arch-mage hated him so much, why he was doing this to him, but he already knew and it only made all this so much worse. He curled his hands into fists as the Arch-mage strolled away, purple robes fluttering behind him. He wanted to go after him, wanted to stand up for Lytle, to do something that would make her feel better, but he was powerless. Weak. A coward. He couldn’t do anything. The Arch-mage always punished him when he tried to be anything more than a pathetic,  _ useless _ -

Gaster grinded that thought to a halt. This was not about him, this was about Lytle, and he needed to see about doing something to make her feel better. First, he should tell Sans what was happening and give the healer the alone time she desired. Then perhaps the skeleton could give him some insight on what to do from there.

He eventually managed to spur himself into a meandering gait, feeling like he was in another dream, but acutely aware this time that no, this was real life, this was really happening. Lytle’s family was dead. The family she always talked about and had loved so much and was so excited to see again was little more than burnt corpses to be buried in a mass, unmarked grave somewhere in the countryside.

He should’ve done something. He didn’t know what he could have done, but he should have done  _ something _ . He was the Doctor of Death, yet he couldn’t even do enough to kill one fire elemental before it went out of control. What good was he, then? He couldn’t even save a baby boy.

Before he knew it, he found himself opening the door to his lab and stumbling inside. Sans was already standing when the doctor opened the door, but he managed to jump to attention nonetheless, looking at Gaster in concern when he didn’t see Lytle.

“What happened?” The skeleton asked, gripping the bars of the cage. “Where’s Lytle?” His voice had a pang of fear to it, almost cracking.

Gaster sighed, collapsing into his chair and burying his face in his hands, unable to meet the monster’s gaze.  _ He should have been able to prevent this. He had failed her. _ “Lytle’s family is dead. She wanted to be alone.”

Sans stared at the doctor in shock. “And you just let her? She just lost her entire family! We should be giving her support, not standing on the sidelines while her world crumbles around her!”

Gaster bit his tongue as a sharp response tried to jab its way out. “And what do you want me to do, Sans? For all I know, Lytle might hate me because I’m the son of the dastard that didn’t do his job and let those she loved die.”

“Lytle is  _ not _ that kind of person.” Sans retorted, pointing at the doctor accusedly. “You need to try and be a good friend for once, Gaster.”

That was it. The ugly person that Gaster had locked up for so long broke out. It was like Gaster was an observer, suddenly, watching and feeling as his body snapped up and over to the skeleton’s cage, towering over the tiny monster. “Who are  _ you _ to say I haven’t been trying,  _ monster _ ? I’ve been trying and trying and  _ trying _ , but no one ever notices, ever  _ cares, _ all I ever do is what is expected of me, with never so much as a ‘thank you’! I try to be a good person, and all it ever does is  _ make things worse _ . I’m so tired, Sans! You can’t even  _ imagine _ how exhausted I am! A part of me was  _ happy _ when I thought my mother might be dead, because then I could kill myself and feel no guilt because of it.” Gaster heaved in a deep breath, fighting the constricting feeling in his throat. “Who are you to say I haven’t been trying? I’ve watched you and Lytle die so many times, forcing myself to relive that horrible nightmare over and over again,  _ trying _ to save you, but all I ever seem to do is hurt the people around me! Why, why should I try anymore?” Gaster batted his eyes as self-control suddenly became something he had again, and he was stumbling back, away from the monster’s cage. Sans stared at him with wide sockets, having fallen back onto the floor at some point. Gaster laid a hand on the side of his head, closing his eyes. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped, I-” Sans was still looking at Gaster in absolute terror, not having moved a bit when Gaster opened his eyes again. Gaster looked away, cursing to himself silently.

“I-It’s okay.” Sans stammered quietly, shifting into a more comfortable sitting position. “I shouldn’t have assumed...” Sans trailed off, and it was his turn to look away. “Just please, don’t say monster like that again.”

“What?” Gaster risked a glance at the skeleton, but the monster’s expression was just as ashamed as his own.

“The way you said monster,” Sans explained softly, “It was like how the other men in camp say it. Like I’m some sort of lesser creature, some sort of demon. You and Lytle have never said it like that before, and I...” Sans sighed, squeezing his sockets shut. “I’m sorry, this is hard on all of us. You’re just... less emotional than me and Lytle. I shouldn’t have said you weren’t trying, I know you care about Lytle just as much, if not more, than I do.”

Gaster shook his head. “Don’t apologize. I’ve been trained in self-control, I shouldn’t have snapped in the first place.”

Silence fell between them, but before it could become uncomfortable, Sans asked, “So... you’ve been sleeping so often because you’re trying to find a way to save us in your weird nightmare?”

Gaster smirked tiredly. “I wasn’t sure you noticed.”

Sans snorted. “It’s not like I got much to do in here, doc.” The skeleton was silent for a moment. “Any luck?”

“No.” Gaster answered, rubbing his temples as another headache crept up on him. “I’ve managed to save you a few times, but never Lytle.”

“You-” Sans cut himself off, meeting Gaster’s gaze. His voice was drenched in worry. “You don’t think they mean anything, do you?”

“I don’t think so.” Gaster said, and was surprised to find he actually meant it. “My dreams have never been meaningful before this, and I have had a few dreams like this before. Nothing came of those ones so I don’t see why now would be different.”

Sans visibly relaxed. “Good.” Sans rubbed the back of his head, and Gaster waited while the skeleton debated on saying whatever he was thinking of saying. “I’m going to say this at the risk of being selfish, but do you think Lytle will-” The skeleton stopped as he realized what he was saying. He switched to signs, and it was a good thing too, Gaster could feel souls listening in.  **Do you think Lytle will still help me escape tomorrow? She’s supposed to distract the guards while I sneak past them.**

**I don’t know.** Gaster responded, signing more slowly than he usually did so Sans could interpret each one.  **I don’t doubt she’ll help you escape, but I don’t know if it will be tomorrow.**

Sans nodded, looking away. “I wish... I wish Lytle’s family was still alive, as childish as that sounds. Do you know how it happened?”

“Out of control fire elemental.” Gaster said, glancing forlornly at Lytle’s empty seat. “Burned several towns to the ground, from my understanding, and didn’t leave survivors in any of them.”

Sans whistled softly. “Dang. Yeah, I could see a fire elemental doing something like that.”

Gaster cocked his head at the skeleton. That didn’t seem right. “Really? How so?”

“You don’t know?” Sans asked incredulously. Gaster slowly shook his head, hoping the skeleton would explain. “That’s how the war started. Like twenty years ago, it began in China when the European Holy Army came in and slaughtered all the elementals they could lay their murderous gloves on. Most elementals lived in China, since the Chinese viewed them as holy gifts from dragons or something like that, but the monster kingdoms were growing powerful and the Chinese, what do they have, like an emperor?” Gaster nodded. “Yeah, the Chinese emperor, in fear for his people, let the Europeans come in and kill the elementals.” Sans shook his head. “It was a long time before wind of what was happening reached the rest of the monsters, about a decade, I think, since the human army’s crusade was so successful.”

Gaster was silent as pieces from his past slowly clicked into place. “I used to know a fire elemental. He never would tell me why he was in hiding.” The doctor said after several long moments had passed. Sans perked up. “But that’s a story for another time, perhaps. We should be focused on Lytle. How can we make her feel better?”

Sans frowned. “Don’t ask me! I don’t know!”

Gaster narrowed his eyes at the monster. “I thought you were supposed to be the one with good people skills. How do you comfort a grieving person?”

“Gaster, I seriously have no idea.” Sans persisted, crossing his arms. “For monsters, you just give it time, be around people that care about you, give those you lost a proper burial, never forget them, and move on. It’s different for humans though, I’ve heard. You all are more deeply affected by death.”

Gaster would’ve narrowed his eyes, but they were already slits. “Her brother died, Sans. He couldn’t have been older than three.”

Gaster flinched back as Sans’ sockets suddenly lost their eyelights, giving the monster a terrifying expression. His sockets were like voids, sucking the human in, knowing more effectively than any Eye of Integrity all the horrible things the human had done.  “Trust me, I know, Gaster. He didn’t deserve that, but this is war. Awful, awful things are going to happen and we grieve them, but if we stopped to mourn all the deaths, we would be here for years.”

Gaster knew that, but he was still glad the skeleton had reminded him of it. “You’re right. So, you think I should bring Lytle back here?”

Gaster had the feeling that if the skeleton had any, he would be pursing his lips. “Uh, maybe I was hasty in what I said before. Lytle knows we’re here, and if she wanted our comfort she’d come. I think if she really wants to be alone, she will be. Maybe just wait until morning? If she’s not back then, then we should be concerned.”

Gaster nodded as the skeleton spoke. “Alright then. I guess I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Off to have more nightmares?” Sans asked as he settled down on his bedroll.

Gaster grimaced. “I’m going to find a way to save you two, even if it scars me for life.” Sans snorted. “I know, they’re just dreams, but still. It’s important to me.”

“Alright, alright.” Sans said, holding up his hands in submission. “Just don’t lose sight of real life, okay? Lytle’s going to need you when she stops deciding to be alone.”

“Right.” Gaster said sadly, nodding. “I should have done something to stop this from ever happening.”

Sans gave the doctor a dubious look. “Like what, exactly? You’re not exactly scouring the country for any monsters waiting to attack. It’s not your fault, Gaster, even if the Arch-mage is your father. Just because you two are related doesn’t mean you’re the same. Actually by definition that means you’re not the same, so don’t beat yourself up over it. Just be there for her when she needs you.”

Gaster blinked at the monster, feeling a weight lifted off his shoulders. “Thank you, Sans, I needed that. I’ll see you in the morning, then.”

“‘Night, doc.” Sans responded, turning onto his side to go to sleep. Gaster left, trying to be like Sans and believe that everything would be okay.


	19. Goodbye, My Flower

Sans couldn’t sleep. Most nights, he found himself unable to sleep, too scared about what his dreams would torment him with, unlike Gaster who threw himself into his nightmares over and over again like a crazy man. He would either just stare at the wall, trying to sleep, or watch the soul matter swirl in their jars, bored. But with everything happening with Lytle, Sans found himself too anxious to do either of those things, and eventually found himself pacing back and forth in his cell. The monster didn’t know the people, he didn’t have the right to mourn over their deaths, yet he still felt so  _ awful _ . As much as he wanted to talk to Lytle, see how she was handling it all, he wanted to have some time to understand it himself. Lytle had been so excited to see these people after the war, and Sans had gotten himself caught up in that excitement too. He wanted to meet them, wanted to take Papyrus to meet them, wanted to know the people who had raised such a kind girl. And now he never would.

He stopped, leaning his forehead against the wall tiredly. He just wanted to know what he should do, how he could help. These people weren’t coming back, but Lytle was still here and in desperate need of some friends.

The door flew open. Sans started, jumping back and coming face-to-face with the healer. She blinked bloodshot eyes at him, fingering the edge of something in her hands. “Why are you still awake?” Lytle whispered, voice exhausted and creaky.

“I was worried. How are you holding up?” Sans asked, reaching out a hand. She slowly took it, squeezing the skeleton’s phalanges.

“I’m- well, I’ll be alright.” Lytle whimpered after several moments. “It’s just so  _ hard _ to imagine, so hard to believe, but I’ll be okay, I think. I just needed some time to sort things out.” Lytle sighed, releasing the skeleton’s hand and stepping over to Gaster’s desk.

“So what are you doing here in the dead of night?” Sans cocked his head, leaning against the wall and trying to be as calm as Lytle about everything. She put whatever she was holding onto Gaster’s desk, putting another piece of paper on top of it. She turned to Sans, biting her lip. “What was that?”

“That was a message for Gaster.” Lytle said. “Something I don’t know if I could tell him in person, but that he needs to know.”

“You don’t hate him, do you?” Sans’s voice was more fierce than he thought it would be, the skeleton feeling very protective of the doctor for some reason. “Because he came back here all flustered, thinking you hated him.”

Lytle managed a small smirk. “No, I could never hate Gaster. It’s just, when I looked at him, all I could see were the eyes of the Arch-mage. The Arch-mage, it’s his fault this happened. His job is to make sure all non-soldiers are safe from any monster, and he failed. I was so angry at him that when I looked at Gaster and saw the same eyes as his father, I just snapped.” Lytle huffed, hugging herself. “I feel awful about it, but that’s why I have the letter, so I can apologize. I just don’t know if I could manage it in person.”

“Understandable.” Sans reassured her. Lytle didn’t move, just stood there uncertainly. Sans arched a browbone at the healer. “Something else?”

She was still for a moment longer before she held up a key, walking over and unlocking the monster’s cage. She met his gaze firmly, jaw set. “It’s time, Sans.”

Sans blinked at the healer, letting the weight of her words fully register in his mind, or whatever it was a skeleton had. “Wait- you’re serious? You want to do it tonight, right now?” Lytle nodded, unwavering. “But what about-”

“I thought it would be better that Gaster not know what night we were doing it.” Lytle interrupted him, shuffling from foot to foot, her only telltale sign of any nervousness. “And I have the gold, I knew where Gaster kept it.” The healer pulled a large pouch off from around her waist, tossing it to the skeleton. “It’s time, Sans.”

Sans stared down at the leather in his hands, marveling at the weight of the gold inside of it. “If you think this is for the best, then alright. Let’s do this.”  He pushed himself off the wall with his unoccupied hand, stepping out of the cell he had lived in for the last few weeks and waiting while Lytle stared at her arm, willing magic into the runes she had rubbed on there with mud, it looked like. There was a familiar muffling sensation settling over the monster’s soul, concealing his magic from any nearby forces, and he gave the healer a thumbs up. She nodded, opening the door to the lab and peeking out. She made sure the coast was clear before strolling out, leaving it ajar. Sans counted to ten, the amount of time they established it would take for her to walk from the lab to where the first patrol of guards would be walking past. Lytle would distract them for just long enough for the skeleton to slip out and begin scurrying to the exit. Lytle would then move ahead to distract one more group of guards, and Sans would be home free.

The skeleton flew across the ground, ducking behind the crate Lytle said would be here. He peeked over the lip just in time to see the healer wave to the guards and depart, off to do her second part. He took a deep breath, scurrying from hiding place to hiding place, waiting with bated breath as guards clanked past, torches in hand. None of them noticed him, none of them thought anything was out of the ordinary.

This was actually working. Sans was actually escaping, enough gold in hand to stow his way to where monsters were still fighting. Where he would be safe. He would be free.

The skeleton scrambled back as the tent flap in front of him stirred, hiding in the space between where two tents were pitched. A soldier stepped outside, yawning and drowsily stumbling right past the skeleton’s hiding place. Sans thought his soul might actually leap out of his chest as he heard the man’s shuffling gait fade into the distance, gripping his collar bone and drawing in deep breaths. He hurriedly shimmied his way out of his hiding place, running as quietly as he could to where he was supposed to be. He slid behind the stack of barrels, peering around it to where Lytle was chatting with some guards. She glanced over at the skeleton’s hiding place, keeping eye to socket contact for a moment before raising her voice slightly so that Sans could hear her bidding the guards goodnight. He hurried on, silently thanking her for everything she had done for him and promising he would see her and Gaster again one day.

He pressed himself against the wooden fence, sliding along it to where the opening was supposed to be. True to her word, Sans found an inconspicuous plank of wood leaning against the fence.  He pushed it aside, wincing at the hissing, crunching sound of wood against dirt. He looked around, making sure no one had heard, but no there were no shouts of alarm or stomping feet. He sighed out a breath of relief, bidding his prison a happy farewell and a good riddance. He turned to leave only to be whisked up and back by blue magic. The skeleton let out a strangled cry as he crashed into the ground, finding himself staring at a very familiar pair of boots. He shuddered, forcing himself to look up and meet his death.

The Arch-mage seemed almost amused, gazing down at the skeleton with bright, glowing eyes. “Did you really think I would just let you get away,  _ monster _ ?” He asked, voice shockingly light and clipped. If Sans didn’t know that this awful creature couldn’t feel anything, he might have thought the man was excited or giddy. “Please, I’ve been watching Ms. Juliet Lytle the moment she stepped into this camp. Call it a gut feeling, if you would, that she might try something like this.” The Arch-mage set the heel of his foot on Sans’ skull, slowly applying pressure. “She will learn, just like Gaster, that trying to be a good person just gets more people hurt.” 

Sans cried out, not just from the pain in his head as the Arch-mage began to crush it, but also from the pain of failure. He had been so close.  _ So close to freedom _ . But of course, the Arch-mage, the seemingly omniscient demon sent from hell had to come to snatch it away. Not even that. If he had been watching Lytle and knew about the hole beforehand and had suspected their plans before tonight, he could have just come in and killed him. But no, he waited until Sans was  _ right there _ before taking everything away from him. As tears began to flow from his sockets, he wondered if this was what it was always like with the Arch-mage. He suddenly felt bad for Gaster, even as he was about to die.

“Stop.” The pressure was relieved from his skull instantly. Sans groaned, blearily looking up at Lytle as she drew closer, trying to push a protest past the pain. “This wasn’t the monster’s idea. It was mine, all of it. He should not be blamed for the actions of a monster sympathizer.”

“Lytle, what-” Sans was cut off by a sharp kick to the ribs from the Arch-mage. The skeleton curled in on himself, searching Lytle’s face like the answer might be written there. And when he saw her eyes, suddenly the pieces clicked into place. The abruptness of the escape so soon after learning the fate of her family, the note she left for Gaster, saying she couldn’t tell the doctor what was written on it in person, and her eyes. Her eyes were the eyes of a person who had nothing left to lose, nothing left but the friends she had made. She must have suspected, must have known, that something was going to happen. She knew this would happen.

“I, Juliet Lytle,” The healer raised her voice so that anyone nearby could clearly hear her words, “Admit to being a monster sympathizer. I was the one that came up with this plan to free the monster, and I was the one that forced him to go along with it against his protest. No one else is to blame, no one else had any involvement.”

The words Lytle had said so long ago rang inside the skeleton’s skull:  _ I’d rather die than see you perish. _ “No Lytle, don’t do this. Think about Gaster.” That made the healer flinch, glancing at the monster. For a moment, the stone mask broke and the Sans could see the confusion and conflicting emotions on the girl’s face. Anger. Sadness. And yet... there was still hope. Love. 

“Too late.” The Arch-mage chirped, delivering another swift kick to Sans’ sternum. “Well, if the monster didn’t want to go along with it, I may as well give it back to Gaster to finish up any tests. It’s going to die within the next few days anyways.” The Arch-mage grinned, and Sans learned finally where the doctor had learned his wrong smile. “You, girl, will come with me. I believe Father Michael would like some words with you.”

* * *

When Gaster woke up the next morning, he didn’t think anything was wrong. Nothing certainly seemed out of place as he slipped his robes on and strolled to his lab. He stopped beside a patch of grass that had been untouched by the shenanigans of the army around it. He pulled out a few stalks of grass, twirling them between his fingers before nodding. His eyes flared brighter as he turned the grass into several red tulips, each one a luscious red that reminded him of the healer’s bright hair. He carefully stowed them into his robe, praying that she would like them, even if they weren’t her favorite kind of flower. He had to cheer her up somehow, after all. Should he get her something else too? No, no, Lytle was a girl of simple tastes, if Gaster got her too many things she might just get upset. Still, she had just lost her whole family. Alright, alright, he would offer to make her some foreign fruit at lunch time, and go from there.

The wistful plans were stabbed to death when he opened the door to his lab and saw a beaten Sans with several nasty looking bruises curled on the floor of his cell. He was beside the monster in an instant, opening the cell lock with barely a thought and crossing the ground between them in just a couple of strides. “Sans? Sans! What happened!?”

The skeleton whimpered, peeling his sockets open only to break into a coughing fit. Gaster looked around, but he didn’t have anything to help a skeleton monster. Maybe if it was a monster with flesh and blood, but Sans had neither of those things. Why was Gaster always so powerless to help those he cared about?

“They took her.” Sans croaked out eventually, gripping the front of Gaster’s robes with hands like steel. “The took her, Gaster. She told them it was her fault, she made them leave me behind so they wouldn’t kill me-”

Gaster stopped listening at that point, acutely aware of the weight of the flowers against his chest. Oh  _ God _ , no- This couldn’t be happening. It simply couldn’t. He had to be in another nightmare, he just had to be. “Slow down now.” The words tumbled out by themselves, harsh as an avalanche. “Tell me what happened.”

Sans hiccuped, breath shuddering as he spoke. “L-Last night she came and wanted to g-go ahead with the escape p-plan.” He blubbered, releasing Gaster and propping himself up on shaking arms. “It was going well, but the Arch-mage- the Arch-mage knew, and I don’t know how, but he was there, right at the end, and he was going to kill me right there but Lytle came up and defended me and he took me back here and took Lytle.”

“Did he mention any names?” Gaster asked sharply. Sans was breaking apart again as he relived the memory, but Gaster didn’t have the time to comfort him. “Sans, you have to tell me any names he said.”

Sans managed to calm himself a bit after a moment. “I-I think he m-mentioned a Michael?”

Gaster cursed, drawing back. What could he do? He racked his brain, trying to find the way out, the solution to this problem. The Arch-mage was always wary of Kindness souls, Gaster knew that and still he let Lytle in. He gripped his arm, digging his fingernails into his flesh. He would have been watching Lytle, doubly so when he had learned of how much time the healer spent with his son, looking and waiting for the moment she slipped up. Because if Gaster loved her, then the Arch-mage wanted her dead.

“She’s going to die, isn’t she?” Sans wailed, collapsing onto the ground again and burying his face into his arms. “She’s going to die and it’s my fault!”

Gaster found himself staring at one of the tulips, though he didn’t remember pulling it out. He pinched its stalk gingerly, staring at the soft, red petals and the beautiful design. He dumbly dropped it onto his desk before lifting Sans up with blue magic.

The skeleton whimpered. “What are you doing?”

Gaster didn’t respond. He  _ couldn’t _ respond. He just brought Sans with him as he walked down the familiar path, past the familiar faces, and the idle chatter he had heard countless times before. He pushed his way to the front of the crowd that was growing, setting Sans down and letting the skeleton lean against him for support.

**They’re going to burn her.** Gaster found himself signing, glancing down at the skeleton. The monster blanched, sockets wide and face somehow going a paler white. Gaster thought he might burst into tears again, but he seemed too shocked for that, just like Gaster. The doctor turned and waited for the familiar scene to unfurl before him.

* * *

The last pieces of firewood were just being thrown at the base of the stake as Sans managed to bring his gaze up to watch, a pit of dread opening in his stomach. A human priest stood dutifully, watching the setup through its completion. He nodded at the men who had brought the wood, dismissing them. Finally, the priest turned to the crowd that had amassed, eyes bright and hard with self-righteousness.

“Good God-fearing men and women of this camp,” The human boomed, loud voice echoing in the silence that had settled over the gathered humans. “Today, we come together to witness the undoing of the wicked. Among us has slept a wolf in sheep’s clothing, that by God’s mighty hand, we have striped naked to face judgement. Indeed, one of our own is a monster sympathizer.” There were boos and jeering from the crowds, condemning anyone that would side with such unholy demons. Sans suddenly felt very self-conscious, curling in on himself and taking a step closer to Gaster. The doctor didn’t seem to notice.

“So now, we bring forth the harlot so that her soul may be cleansed by the holy flame. Bring forth the devil-worshipper!” The priest commanded, turning and motioning to the back of the crowd. The mass of bodies parted a path at the priest’s motion. Sans held his breath, already knowing who would walk out but praying nonetheless that it was anyone else.

From the back, a beaten and bound Juliet Lytle stumbled forward, pushed roughly forward by some soldier. Sans couldn’t breathe. The kind human that had always shown him mercy was now at the mercy of her fellows. And Sans knew all too well that most humans didn’t have any. 

The crowd booed as she approached, several of the members picking up nearby stones and throwing them at her. No, Sans wanted to scream, stop. She’s too nice to deserve this. You all are the ones that deserve to burn. Not this one. Anyone but this one.

Sans suddenly understood why had didn’t see more humans with Kindness souls. Kindness did not survive in the human world. He tried to take a step forward, but Gaster was the only thing keeping the skeleton upright. The moment he took one step forward, a wave of dizziness and nausea washed over him, threatening to make him lurch forward, but instantly Gaster’s hand was on the skeleton’s shoulder. Sans met the human’s eyes, and the message there was clear. The powerlessness and the hopelessness there Sans knew all too well, it was exactly what he was feeling, the knowledge that trying to help her would only get the both of them killed. 

They didn’t give her a chance to speak. They simply pushed her forward, then bound her to the stick of wood that would be her grave. Throughout it all, Lytle’s eyes remained bright and gentle. Even as she was about to die, even as her murderers tied her wrists tighter, she had only kindness and love in her soul. He could see it, the satisfaction in her eyes, knowing that Sans lived. Sans didn’t know why it mattered, he would still die anyways. She caught sight of Sans and Gaster and offered one of her little, gentle smiles. Sans could only stare back. 

The priest called for a torch once the woman was properly bound up. Ceremoniously, he rose it high before putting it low and letting the kindle catch fire. It was disgusting to Sans, how they turned the death of the best of them into a spectacle.

Oh, her screams. They reverberated in Sans’ skull, twisted a knife in his gut and a spell in his soul. Sans wanted to shatter his soul, wanted to do anything that might make the screams stop. But he was too weak to do even that. He couldn’t do anything to put her out of her misery, could only watch as the crowd around them cheered.

Her screams stopped suddenly and she hung limply from the stake. Most members of the crowd didn’t seem to notice, just continued whooping and hollering as the kind human’s body burned. Sans tore his gaze away as the girl’s flesh began to blacken and char, looking at Gaster just in time to see the glow in the man’s eyes dim until they hardly seemed to be giving off any light at all.

They stayed there until most of the other members of those amassed had left. Sans couldn’t bring himself to look at the remains of Lytle’s corpse while Gaster seemed morbidly transfixed by it. He tugged on the doctor’s sleeve. “Please, let’s just go.”

The human did not show any sign of having heard the skeleton, but soon enough he was dragging Sans behind him with blue magic. Everything passed in a blur; too soon and not soon enough they were walking inside the lab. Gaster absently set the monster down in his cell, but didn’t lock or even close the door. He just sat down in his chair, staring blankly at the wall and twirling a flower in his hand.

Sans wanted to scream and cry and curse every god he knew. But he had already done all that, before Gaster had found him. He just felt drained at this point, unable to feel much of anything. He watched the rhythmic back and forth of the flower in the doctor’s hand.

“What is that?” He found himself mumbling at some point.

Gaster did not look at him. “A flower.” He muttered back. “I got it for Juliet, hoping it would make her feel better after losing her family.”

Sans flinched at her name, but Gaster didn’t seem to notice. “She- she said she left you a note. On your desk.”

A bit of clarity returned to Gaster’s eyes at that, and he glanced at the skeleton. “Do you hate me?” He asked, completely disregarding the mention of Juliet’s last words. “For letting her die?”

Sans thought he felt a spark of anger and betrayal somewhere in his chest cavity, but it was weak and fleeting. “No. We both know that if we had tried to help, we would’ve both died alongside her.” Sans squeezed his sockets shut. He wanted to be mad and blame someone, but that someone definitely would not be Gaster. Gaster couldn't have done anything to help, nothing, judging by how he was dealing with this, that he hadn't already tried. “Why? Why did they do this to her?”

Gaster glanced at Sans before turning away. “Because humans view kindness as weakness. Mercy as folley. We are not like monsters. Many of us thrive off violence, feed on sorrow and pain. To many of them, Lytle’s very existence is wrong.” Gaster blinked, the glassy glaze spreading across his eyes again. “Was. Was wrong.”

They fell silent as the full impact of that simple change settled in their mind. Live to dead. Is to was. After what felt like an eternity, Gaster turned, pushing papers out of the way until he found the one Sans recognized. He held the folded item in his hands carefully, staring at it for several long moments before his long fingers ever so slowly unfolded the pages.

Sans watched the doctor’s eyes scan the page, stopping when they reached the bottom before going back to the beginning and starting over again. He repeated this several times, each time a bit a clarity returning to his eyes, each time his expression becoming a little more distressed. 

It was the first time Sans had ever seen the man cry. And judging by the shock on his face when he reached up and touched liquid on his cheeks, it was the first time he had wept in the face of heartache in a very long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As the end of this part draws near, I want to seriously thank you guys for all the positive feedback. It always makes me feel better when I read your comments and realize that other people actually like my writing. So thank you.  
> Alright, so this is the game plan. There will only be one more chapter, which will bring an end to the first half of part one. The second half of part one, even though I call it half, will not actually be as long as the first half. After that, part two probably will probably be the shortest part, and after that the third and final part might be really long, might be kind of short, depending on how in-depth I decide to go. I don't know, we'll see. I also might take a little break once we're done with this section of story, I've been writing a lot these last few days. I'll update you guys on that on the tumblr.  
> There might be a lot of heartache now, but I promise you guys, things will get better. Maybe not soon, but things will get better.


	20. I Hate Myself (But I'll Save You)

Gaster had left the moment he realized he was crying, seeking comfort in the return of the solitude he was used to. He holed up in his room, curled up on his bed in the corner, legs tucked to his chest and chin resting on top of them. Each breath was ragged and painful, like he was breathing in daggers that filled his lungs and stabbed down into his stomach. In one hand, he found the tulip pinched delicately between two fingers, soft red petals beginning to curl. In the other, he found the letter, penned by Lytle’s own hand in Gaster’s code, her last words to him. Her will. He read it over and over again, even though his near perfect memory already had it seared into his mind like a brand.

_ Dear Gaster, _

_ I don’t know what’s going to happen, but if you’re reading this... things didn’t go quite according to plan. I can’t even begin to tell you how weird it feels to write this, but I have a lot of things to tell you, and not much space or time to say it in. Sorry. _

_ First, I want you to know, whatever happens, it’s not your fault. Please, I know how you are, but please don’t blame yourself. I’ve seen the things the Arch-mage can do. Please don’t do anything rash because he will kill you if you do. Please don’t blame Sans either. This was my choice, and mine alone. _

_ Second, I’m sorry for pushing you away. I know I shouldn’t have, but when I looked at you I saw your father and I couldn’t take it. I hope you can forgive me. You are not your father. Your father is cruel and heartless. You once told me Adrian was dead, and I didn’t understand why at first. But I’ve figured it out. And Gaster may not be Adrian, but Gaster is still a good person. I truly believe that, and you should too. _

_ The third thing I have to say is one of my two main reasons for writing this, and I hope you don’t think I’m selfish for doing so. My family is dead, Gaster. You and Sans are all I have, and Sans, well, I see the brother I never had the chance to meet in Sans. I don’t know what’s going to happen, and I feel awful for asking this of you, but I need you to make sure Sans gets home okay, alright? I’m asking you to do this as my last wish. I don’t know if your mother is still alive and I know you don’t either and you don’t want to lose her if she is. But please, please just makes sure Sans doesn’t die or anything, okay? I’ll do my best to get him out of here and leave the rest to you. _

_ And lastly, Gaster... I know we didn’t know each other for very long. I know that I just popped into camp one day, and I was honestly a bit terrified when I heard I was being assigned to help the Doctor of Death in any way possible. Now though, I can honestly say you’re the best friend I’ve ever had, Adrian Gaster. I love you. And I know you’ve never said it, but I know you love me too. I’m so sorry I’m leaving you. I hope you can forgive me for that. Just know that while I may be gone, you’ll never be alone. As long as you never forget me, I’ll be there for you. Thank you for everything. _

_ -Juliet Lytle _

Gaster bit his lip as more tears slipped down his face, dripping onto his black robes. He glanced at the tulip in his hand to find he had began to burn it; the petals were stiff and charred, the stem was hard and black, leaving greasy, black marks on his fingers. He regarded the item for a moment longer before closing his eyes and expending a bit of magic. When he looked up again, he held nothing but a few gray ashes.

There was too much to sift through, too many thoughts and conflicting emotions like a storm twisting inside. He had never told Lytle he loved her. It hadn’t made a difference to her, but it meant the world to him. He had concrete evidence the healer loved him, but he had never offered anything similar to her.

He discarded the ashes of the tulip, pulling out another as he thought, read, and reread.

He had never felt so utterly alone. With the Arch-mage, he had been isolated and hated, forced to live in that cold stone room with nothing to keep him going other than the guilt that propelled him to keep his mother alive. Yet somehow, that didn’t even hold a candle to this. Gaster had finally had someone, he had finally had something that he thought wasn’t going to  _ leave _ , something that wouldn’t die. And just like everyone else, Lytle had left. He almost wanted to be angry, but all he could manage was sad.

She was right, of course, he did blame himself for her death. Mostly because he had killed her. He knew he couldn’t save her, he had tried everything in his dream. And while the circumstances leading up to her death hadn’t been exactly the same, the rest had been. Her screams... he could still hear them, ringing in his skull. He hadn’t wanted her to suffer anymore than she had to, and his Execution Points now reflected that.

Yet, she had believed in him. She had believed in the good person he had long since distanced himself from. And she wanted him to save Sans. He scrubbed at his eyes, sniffling softly in the quiet way he had learned.  _ That _ he could be mad about. He had fought for  _ sixteen years _ , and now Lytle was asking it to throw it all away for the enemy. He dropped the tulip in his hand and pulled back his sleeve, digging his nails into the soft flesh of his forearm and focusing on the pain. Of course, Sans didn’t deserve to die. He had a family and an unrequited love and everything back at the monster camp, but Gaster still couldn’t just-

He tightened his grip, collapsing in on himself. He didn’t even know if his mother was still alive. The few times he had looked into communication magic, he hadn’t been able to make anything work, and the Arch-mage had promptly and harshly punished him when he found out. The few times he had asked, he had been met with a resounding ‘yes’, but with the Arch-mage, he had never been able to tell if he was telling the truth or not. 

Would a good person help Sans, or try to save his mother? An enemy that he barely knew, or his only family left? Why did it even matter? Gaster wasn’t a good person. He was just an obedient one. So did he obey his first love’s last wish, or the will of a society that had only ever hated him and condemned him?

Gaster groaned, resting his forehead on his knee. As a scientist and doctor, Gaster had always searched for the correct answer, the ‘right’ answer. But there wasn’t one this time. Gaster didn’t know what to do with himself. He turned his head to gaze at the flower he had dropped. He blinked, feeling around in his robes for one of the others, but came up empty. Deep in thought, he had burned them and dumped their ashes on his mattress. This single lonely tulip rested on the gray corpses of its kin. Gaster picked it up, a familiar pain settling in his chest like a lead weight. He cut off the stem with barely a thought, glazing the flower itself with purple magic. The doctor cut a small rune onto the underside of the flower, transferring the spell onto it. The spell would preserve the flower so long the rune was supplied with Gaster’s magic. The doctor cradled the lonely, red flower in the palm of his pale hand before slipping it inside the pocket in his robe, right by his heart so that he might keep his last flower close.

_ Never forget... _

A knock at the door. Gaster recognized the slightly nervous, mostly exasperated soul of Captain Avery. Gaster’s gaze slid to the ashes on his bed. He sighed, collecting them up with blue magic and stowing them under his bed to clean them up later. He stood up, straightening out any wrinkles in his robe, careful not to disturb the flower, and rubbing his eyes, hoping it wasn’t painfully obvious he had been crying. “Come in.”

The captain waited a moment before slowly opening the door, poking his head in. Gaster blinked at him and the man entered fully, clicking the door shut behind him and leaning against it. The man cleared his throat awkwardly. “Uh, hi.”

“Can I help you, Avery?” Gaster sighed, crossing his arms and doing his best to look annoyed by the intrusion.

Avery sighed, cursing softly. “Look Gaster, I know, uh...” The captain trailed off before coughing into his hand and continuing. “I know that, uh, that girl meant a lot to you, and I just wanted to offer my condolences.”

_ It would mean a lot more if you actually knew her name. _ “Is that all?” The doctor raised an eyebrow.

Avery did likewise. “Anything... you want to talk about? I know you’re not a soldier, so I don’t think you’re very accustomed to lost. I expect my men to be tough, but I know you sciencey people are made of...” The man trailed off again at Gaster’s dark look.

“No.” Gaster sneered. “I don’t. Please show yourself out.”

The captain opened his mouth, but at Gaster’s expression apparently thought better of it. He nodded, turning to leave.

_ A thank you would be nice, Gaster. _

Gaster sighed out of his nose, closing his eyes. “But thank you for the offer.”

The man stopped, eventually opening the door and slipping out. Gaster raised his hand, putting it gently over the mound the flower bud made on his chest. He sighed, thanking and cursing the man silently for everything he had done, every little awkward act of kindness that he had ever offered. Most that Gaster had rebuked, and the man had seemed grateful for that. Yet still, he had tried. 

_ He had tried and that was what counted. _ Gaster squeezed his eyes shut. He slammed his hand against the wall, cursing himself. He couldn’t just throw everything he had done away. He had done too much, gone through too much, and done much too little, to just throw it all away.  _ I’m sorry Lytle, but I can’t do it. _

He shuffled toward the lab, rubbing at his eyes tiredly. The sky overhead was mostly dark, the horizon tinged with pink. How long had Gaster been in there? He didn’t know. Long enough to warrant enough concern from the church to send Avery, apparently. The doctor sighed bitterly, slowing his pace as he felt the Arch-mage’s soul somewhere nearby. He sped up, but the Arch-mage sped up too, following him somewhere on his right, past a row of tents. Gaster stopped, crossing his arms and waiting for the man to approach him. Which he did, expression cold and aloof.

“Boy.”

“Arch-mage.”

The man regarded Gaster, though what he looked for and what he found Gaster wasn’t sure. “I just wanted to inform you that I just had a meeting with some of the high commanders from England that came in yesterday. They wanted me to tell you to prepare for the mass extermination of monsters. As things are now, they are pushing the monsters toward the Caucasus Mountains. They want you to create one last spell to wipe the beasts out.”

Gaster blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” The Arch-mage snapped. “I won’t repeat myself. As of right now, you are to drop all other projects. Someone from the church will come in tomorrow to dispose of the monster.”

Gaster stepped aside so that his former master wouldn’t bump into him as he passed, watching the man go with a growing sense of dread. He found himself fingering the petals of his flower. He knew this was coming at some point, but it still came as a shock. He would single-handedly be the reason an entire  _ race _ was  _ exterminated _ . Sure, monsters may not have stood a good chance of winning before Gaster had begun his work, but there had still been a  _ possibility _ of them winning. This- this was just a senseless slaughter. And it was his fault.

He found himself in front of his lab much too soon. His hand hesitated on the door knob. Could he really face Sans and tell him that tomorrow, he would be killed and the doctor would begin preparing a spell to kill the entirety of his race? Could he tell him that he was going against Lytle’s last wishes and letting this happen?

The severity of the situation set in, and Gaster could feel the panic roll in with it. He was about to kill  _ thousands _ . Soldiers, men, women,  _ children _ . Gaster found himself distantly opening the door and walking inside, each breath short, ragged, and not enough air for his lungs. “Sans, tell me, what does your brother look like?”

The skeleton pushed himself up from his position curled into a ball, glancing at Gaster with eyelights that were frazzled and weak. “Is that really what you should be asking right now? I haven’t seen you in like three days. I thought I was going to starve to death.”

Gaster blinked at the skeleton, running a hand over his face. “Has it really been that long? Alright, here.” Gaster stepped over, turning a few blank papers into apples and handing them to Sans. “Now please, tell me what your brother looks like.” 

Sans stared at him. “That’s seriously what you’re worried about right now? Not what’s going to happen now that- that...” Gaster stared back and eventually Sans sighed. “My brother, well, he’s just a toddler, in human terms. Small, with tiny brittle bones.” Sans smiled sadly, closing his eyes. “I guess I’m never going to be able to say goodbye to him. I hope he’s happy in whatever future he has left”

Gaster looked away from Sans, taking in the chair, the cubbies, the jars. Sans may be his prisoner, but Gaster just had a bigger cage and nicer things. He sighed, placing a hand over his heart and the flower kept there. This was so  _ stupid _ , but he- he couldn’t ignore all the problems plaguing him. All the awful things he would be doing by not doing anything. He loved his mother, but the fact of the matter was he didn’t know if she was still alive. And even if she was, she wouldn’t want this. She would hate knowing how many died so that she may live. Then there was Lytle and Sans. He would do this for them, for friends that meant the same as family.

Mind made up, the doctor began sifting through all the spell runes that were half-finished and the ones that were finished but too dangerous to simply give to humans. He stuffed the ones he deemed most useful into his inventory and the whatever else he could fit into his pockets. Sans watched this in obvious confusion and a bit of concern, but didn’t say anything. Anything left over he burned.

“What are you doing?” Sans climbed to his feet, shuffling closer.

“The church is going to kill you tomorrow.” Gaster answered, glancing back at the skeleton as he moved on to his jars. As he smashed each one, allowing the soul matter to spill onto the ground and disappear, Gaster continued, “And, they want me to prepare for the final battle where they plan to kill any remaining monsters. As if that wasn’t enough, Lytle has also asked me to make sure you get home safely.” Gaster mets Sans’ gaze evenly as he broke the last jar, freeing the last trapped soul that wasn’t really a soul anymore. “So we’re leaving. Right now.”

At his words, Gaster could sense the people outside run off to inform the Arch-mage, but he didn’t care anymore. He  _ couldn’t _ care anymore. He could just fulfill this last wish. 

“How will we get out? The Arch-mage will kill us the moment we take a step out of this lab after you just blatantly said it like that. What were you thinking?!”

Gaster cocked his head at the skeleton, finding a small smile creep onto his face. “I wanted the Arch-mage to know exactly what was going on. That way when he got here, he would know that I had finally beat him.”

“What-” Sans began, but Gaster didn’t give him the chance to finish. He didn’t know if what he was about to do was going to work, but after what he had already said, he didn’t have anything to lose. He had never been so outright traitorous before, after all. But worst case scenario, they both die. Not like that probably wouldn’t have happened soon anyways.

He gripped the skeleton’s in blue magic, saying a silent prayer to whatever god up there gave a damn about him, and casted the spell. For a moment he wasn’t sure if it had worked, it just looked like a blinding flash of light, which was the standard sign for failure as the magic hadn’t done anything and just became light. But immediately, there was a sickening feeling of weightlessness, and Gaster found himself falling back onto wet grass. The doctor groaned, rolling over and emptying his stomach of whatever was in there. He pushed himself to his feet, swaying for a moment before he put on wobbly leg in front of the other to where a certain skeleton was groaning and peeling his sockets open. Sans bolted upright just as Gaster stopped beside him, looking around them frantically. They seemed to be at the edge of some woods. There was no sign of human civilization close to them. Gaster leaned against the nearest tree, trying to quell the lurching in his soul and the flips in his stomach. He hadn’t had the time to refine the spell, but he didn’t think it would take so much out of him. Hopefully it was nothing that would leave any permanent damage.

“What the hell was that? Where are we?” Sans frantically spun around, kicking at the grass with bare skeletal feet and running his phalanges over the bark of trees as if making sure they were real.

“Teleportation spell.” Gaster mumbled, taking a deep breath. He was starting to feel a little better, but his head beginning to feel a bit fuzzy. “You’re lucky too, this was the last spell I worked on. I barely got it done even then.”

Sans looked at the doctor, brow furrowed. “Then all this... this is real? You’re really going to save me?”

Gaster looked the monster up and down, his vision a little blurry around the edges. He sighed, closing his eyes. “Yes, I will take you back to the monster army.”

Sans was quiet long enough that Gaster cracked an eye at him. “What will you do then?” He asked, looking the human up and down suspiciously.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Even to himself, his voice sounded dead and hollow. “I will give my soul to the monsters and atone for my sins. What else is there to do?”

Sans glared at the man. “Dying is not the way to accomplish anything. You’d just be throwing the burden on someone else.”

Gaster arched an eyebrow at the skeleton. “Why do you care? I figured you’d just be glad to be rid of me.” Sans’ expression did not lighten in the slightest, and Gaster sighed. “Look, I don’t want to fight about this right now. Let’s just see where we’re going.”

“You don’t know where we are?” Sans hissed, glancing around them nervously.

“Not really.” Gaster admitted, conjuring a map of all the known world. In the northern part of Italy, a bright dot of orange stood out among the blue to show where Gaster was. Sans stepped closer to get a look for himself. “I was just trying to get us as far away as possible without damaging my soul. Looks like I managed to get us a decent head start, though the Arch-mage can travel very quickly by flying. He won’t know where we are, of course, but it most likely won’t take very long for him to find us. Besides, he’ll start off by going to every human encampment and telling them to be on the look out for me, so he’ll have any patrols and guards on his side as well.”

“So what does that mean for us?” The skeleton glanced at the woods around them and the darkening sky overhead with apprehension. 

“That means that we lie low and travel at night. We head south, towards the monster army, keeping away from any roads or cities.” Gaster said decisively, looking up at Sans.

“How do we know where those are? I don’t know about you, but I’ve never been to Italy before.”

Gaster looked back down at the map. Little silver lines appeared, snaking their way across the countries. Silver dots popped up too, sprinkled about the lines. Sans and Gaster had teleported to a nice location that wasn’t blocked off by any roads. They could travel parallel to any traffic, and their enemies would be none the wiser.“There, now are you happy?”

Sans nodded, sucking in a deep breath. “I guess we set off then.”

“I guess we do.”

“Gaster?” The doctor looked up. Sans looked away, rubbing the back of his skull. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do this.”

Gaster looked back down at the map, dispelling it after a moment. “Well, I couldn’t very well leave you. Honestly, it does feel a bit better knowing I’m finally free from that place and those people.” But it was a panicked, awful kind of relief he felt, though he could never tell Sans that. After all this, he could finally end all this pain and suffering.

Without another word, they tread deeper into the woods, heading back to join the monsters. When Sans wasn’t looking, Gaster laid a hand over his flower, promising he would see her soon, after he had fulfilled her wish. Maybe then they could be happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we come to the end of a half. Oh my goodness guys, this has been so much fun to write! I hope you guys are having as much fun reading this as I am writing this. Like I said last chapter, I don’t know when the next update will be because I might take a bit of a break, but it shouldn’t be too long, I think. You’ll at least see one before school starts back up again, I’ll make myself write if I have to, though I doubt it’ll come to that. I can’t wait to show you what heartache I have in store this time around! *commence maniacal laughter.*  
>  In other news, chapter nineteen was actually one of the first chapter I wrote for this story. And let me tell you, it has gone through some major changes. I can’t wait to see how the first chapter I wrote for this story changes. I mean, I already know how some of it will change, but I can’t to see the final product. Don't judge me and my nerdiness...  
>  I’m going to enact a slight trigger warning for the rest of this part as well. Gaster’s not going to be in the best frame of mind after losing everything he lived for, so be aware of that. But, we will finally see our two main characters grow closer in the second half of this part. I’m so excited!


	21. Out of the Frying Pan

Adrian was so tired. He had long ago forced his soul into a state of permanent Battle. Still, the object was to exit the maze, and the Arch-mage was very adamant about him finding the exit. So here Adrian was, trudging through the familiar darkness that had lost its sense of danger some time ago, now that he could sense the beasts and dispel them with light. The hallucinations, visual and auditory, had stopped for the most part, though the Man That Wasn’t There still trailed behind him at every step.

He could scarcely tell whether he was awake or asleep anymore. Everything felt distant and muted. Even pain had lost its edge, though he could at least feel that better than anything else. Sometimes he would find himself digging his nails into his arm hard enough to draw blood, but he could at least feel that. So he kept doing it, even as his arm became numb and red.

“You know,” The Man That Wasn’t There said in his disinterested, airy voice, “I’m just trying to drive you to insanity. You should just give up now, it would save you a lot of suffering in the long run. But you can’t do that, can you? You have to fight and struggle just to save your poor, dear mother.”

Adrian didn’t respond. He rarely ever did anymore, aloud anyways.

The hallucination scoffed. “I should have killed her when I had the chance.”

Adrian flinched, but knew better than to lash out at the apparition. It was just too much energy for accomplishing nothing. 

He just wanted to leave this pain, this special breed of torture the Arch-mage entertained himself with. But the more he focused and mapped and explored, he found this wasn't simply a maze, but a labyrinth, constantly shifting and turning silently around him.

He stopped as he felt more shadow beasts ahead, feet aching and soul tired as he maneuvered his ball of light forward to chase down the opposing magic. As much as he wanted it all to stop, he also wanted to prove something to the Arch-mage.  Adrian wasn't really sure what- maybe that despite his hatred and belittling attitude toward his son, Adrian was still capable or maybe it was because of Adrian’s own resentment that made him want to push forward to prove to anyone watching he was good enough. Maybe if Adrian ever managed to kill the Arch-mage, he could return home and tell his mother about how he had triumphed over this particular sort of evil. The thought drew out a sad smile from the boy's lips.

“What are you smiling about?” The Man That Wasn't There snapped, scowling. In a childish moment of clarity, Adrian decided that was a mouthful. He decided to name the ghost John.

“Love, family.” Adrian replied with a little shrug. “Things you wouldn't understand.”

John scowled, moving in front of him in a motion caught somewhere between a backward stride and a glide. “Where do you think you came from then, if I'm so awful?”

“You didn't love Mother.” Adrian said firmly, or as firmly as his squeaky, exhausted boy voice could manage. “You liked her body, but you never loved her. I'm sure of it.”

“Ah, yes.” John quipped, returning to his usual place hovering just behind Adrian, face barely visible over his shoulder. “You know so much with the short ten or eleven years of wisdom you've gathered.”

“Well, you're not even real.” Adrian retorted, trying to stop being embarrassed by a snide comment that came from his own mind. “So what would you know?”

“More than you certainly.” John grumbled loudly. “A pig would know more than you, you stupid, disappointing boy.”

Even coming from a fake, the statements still stung. Adrian didn't want them to, he wanted to ignore anything and everything his father said that wasn't directly correlated to learning magic, but that singular thought was stuck in his head. The Arch-mage was his father. And even though Adrian hated him and wanted him to die a fiery death, he wanted to make him proud in a pathetic, childish way.

Needless to say, Adrian had a lot of conflicting, confusing emotions about the Arch-mage that was a lot for a ten or eleven year old to sort out. And he didn't want to be left alone with them anymore. He never had, really, but now he was willing to cheat to escape.

When this had started, the magic dampener spell placed on this place was too much for more than a trickle of Adrian’s magic to escape. But his soul had grown stronger over the time he had been here, and he could fight against the spell more, even if it wasn't much. He didn't know how to fly with blue magic, but even if he did it probably would be too much magic for what Adrian had at his disposal. He tried to summon a couple of shields to form stairs that moved with him, but he could only summon one shield at a time that would support his weight. 

A flickering memory in the back of his mind surfaced, a boy sneaking out to learn magic he should not know. Stretching, swirling possibilities branching from one singular fact. The law of equivalent exchange and an imitation of a false science.

Adrian brought his little light closer, shining on his pale hand and wicked fingernails as he ran his hand over the concrete wall. Concrete, made by the Romans from sand, rock, limestone, and cement. It's components, mixed together and molded into something greater than the sum of their parts. Unlike a cake, where its ingredients went through dramatic changes to make the product. No, these ingredients were more or less mashed together, like what Adrian saw other children do when it was raining and they stuck their hands in the ground, taking grass and mud and clay and making little balls of mystery they would throw at each other.

Adrian clawed at the back of his mind until he remembered the correct runes. He was fairly certain he could make this work if he could just channel his magic into the runes instead of just casting the spell like how Edgar had shown him. The ‘monster’ way of casting magic that didn't require runes but took more magic as a consequence. But it wasn't like he just had some paper or anything lying around, or even a spell to carve into the stone that didn't require more magic than what he could draw out. 

Adrian stared at his hand that seemed like the hand of a stranger. Pale as a ghost with frighteningly long, gnarled nails, caked with blood. No wonder his arm hurt so much. His gaze slid from his hand to his arm, scratched and bruised like the body of a soldier right after a fight with a pack of wolves. No infection though, the magic in his soul fought against that even if he couldn't use it for spells. It was only his left arm, which meant his right arm was a sickly white. A canvas, or in this case, a parchment.

Adrian didn't need to take a deep breath or mentally prepare himself in any way. He felt too detached from reality to really feel the pain as he began digging his nails into his arm, carving out the runes. Sticky, jarringly warm blood spilled from the cuts and dripped down his arm. For some reason, Adrian had expected it to be cold so that it matched his clammy, white skin.

The runes were a little crude, but not bad, all considering. Better than nothing at least. Adrian pulled away the excess blood with the little blue magic he could conjure, making the runes clearer and ready to use.

This was the moment of truth. Adrian took a deep breath, placing his left hand on the wall and staring at the fresh wounds on his right forearm. He hesitated for just a moment before willing magic into the runes, watching and feeling as a slight tingling he could barely feel spread in his limb as the runes glowed a soft white. 

The wall crumbled beneath his touch, dissolving into a pile of sand and fragments of stone to create a hole as big as his head. Adrian gave a satisfied grunt, moving his hand around the wall to make the hole bigger until it was big enough for him to climb through. He repeated the process over and over, carving a path in the direction he was pretty sure the exit was. John followed him with a dark scowl as a long buried spark of hope blinked into life in Adrian’s chest. This... this was really happening. He was finally getting out of this hell.

“You're cheating.” John growled.

Adrian actually had the nerve again to laugh. God, he almost wanted to curl up and cry in relief, but he would wait until he was actually out of here for that. “I don't care.” Adrian smirked as he continued. “All paths lead to Rome.”

John didn't say anything for a moment. “Was that a pun?” He asked in a mix of disbelief and disgust.

Adrian glanced at him slyly, the smirk quirking up a little more. “Was it?”

John sighed heavily. “My God, I knew you were an atrocious little goblin, but that's just too much.” His voice was somehow disinterested and sharp at the same time, like a sentient and bored sword. “And even if this is just another way of getting out of the maze doesn't mean it's the way you should take.”

“I really don't care.” Adrian chirped back as he felt the slightest draft come from somewhere above. He stopped, summoning a new ball of light- he had to dispel the other to make room for  alchemy- and sending it up to explore his surroundings. Instead of the wall stopping about twenty feet up, the wall kept climbing until his ball of light showed that it wasn't a wall at all but a staircase. This was it. He was so close he actually dared to think of how nice sunlight would feel on his skin, that kind of rich warmth that seemed almost foreign to him now.

He followed the wall until he came to the beginning of the staircase. He fought against the sobs rising in his throat, but lost the battle as they wretched their way out. He couldn't help it. This was finally going to be over. Adrian didn't even spare a thought for what the Arch-mage would subject him to after this. It didn't matter, it couldn't be worse than this.

One step at a time. His ball of light floated in front of him, illuminating his path to freedom. His feet ached, and his already sore legs protested against the movements. But he ignored it, just like he had ignored the other pain. He would not falter now, not when he was so  _ close _ .

He hesitated for a moment, sensing something up ahead. It wasn't like the shadow dogs. This felt much bigger than that, like how Adrian imagined a dragon from legend might be like. Of course it couldn't be this easy. He took in a deep breath, not about to give up when he was right there. He was about to send his ball of light forward when two white circles snapped open above him. Adrian gasped, stepping back and narrowly catching himself before he tumbled down the steps. Light exploded into the room, blinding him. When he could see again, it was just in time to see a massive shadow paw smack him. He barely summoned a green shield to catch him before he was a smudge on the ground. Even then, shields weren't exactly the softest cushion to land on.

Adrian gave himself no reprieve, scrambling to his feet to see what await him. It was a shadow beast like the dogs had been, but this one was giant and distinctly not a dog. This one had the body and head of a lion, its mane wispy black strands like mist. Its tail split at the base, and Adrian was horrified to watch as four more white eyes snapped open as the two tails became twin shadow snakes. The beast was perched precariously on the staircase, each paw as wide as the path was. It roared, shaking the entire underground room. Adrian shook his head as dust rained on him from above.

“You're dead.” John said. He stood on nothing next to Adrian.

Adrian had only a moment to glare at him before the snakes hissed, striking out. He yelped, dispelling his shield and summoning a new one a short length below him. One of the snakes passed by him, just a hair width away from catching him with its wicked black teeth. The already chilly air turned to ice around it. Adrian shuddered.

What did he do? The shadow dogs had been easy enough to handle once he knew what to do to get rid of them. This one though, light didn't bother it one bit. Dozens of bright spheres of light floated in clumps all around the room. Adrian didn't have access to proper offensive magic, and he didn't have the time to carve any more runes into his arm. The snakes had unnatural reach, lengthening at will to attack him. He would have to deal with them first. The lion part of the beast blocked the staircase, so if Adrian could take care if the snakes, he could probably figure out a way to take care of the rest of the beast. It didn't move at all, staying right where it was on the staircase. Adrian took in a deep breath. He could do this. He was so close, he wouldn't be stopped now.

He dropped the rest of the way to the ground, breaking the fall into smaller segments with shields. The vipers lunged at him, but he could sense them coming now. He deftly dodged them, scrambling back into the maze. 

“What are you doing?” John asked, glaring at the snakes that weren't doing their jobs even though Adrian knew he was talking to him. “I thought you were trying to get out of there.”

“I have an idea.” Adrian panted between breaths. Mushrooms were not a good enough food source for this kind of physical exertion.

“That's good.” John replied after a pause. Adrian slid around the corner of a wall into the labyrinth. The boy glanced at the hallucination questioningly, uncertain if he had heard him right. “You're stupid, so any ideas you have will probably get you killed.”

Adrian grunted, peering around the corner. That was the John he knew. One of the vipers caught sight of him, hissing. Its huge mouth unhinged, revealing two wicked black teeth and no tongue. It lunged forward.

Adrian ran out of the way just as the snake smashed through the wall. Rubble rained down on top of it, pinning it down. It hissed and thrashed under the stone, unfortunately still very much alive. Around the corner, the lion roared in agony.

Adrian breathed in sharply. He was hoping that would have killed it. After a moment, he summoned an orange weapon. It couldn't even be called a dagger; it had no hilt and was just a tiny blade pinched between his thumb and forefinger. Still, his soul naturally coated it with a yellow tint. He edged his way along the wall to where the beast was thrashed and hissed, trapped. John stood in front of it, arms crossed and lips turned down in a frown. He didn't voice his obvious dissatisfaction, for once.

Adrian plunged his little weapon into the viper’s body with all the force he could manage. The snake cried out as it began to erode away, its black surface smoldering away from the touch of Adrian’s Karmic Retribution. It was actually a good thing that the Arch-mage was the one creating this horror, otherwise Adrian’s ability would be useless.

His magic corroded away the head of the snake, ceasing its cries of pain. His magic raced along the length of its body, but before it could reach the rest of the beast, the other snake reached around and bit off the rest of the other tail. It burned away into dark yellow magic particles like gold.

Adrian cradled his arm. Stabbing his weapon into the beast had sent cold trails of pain up his arm like spears of ice. The pain had mostly subsided, but it left his arm numb and cold.

The other viper stared at Adrian with its stagnant white eyes, hissing but not moving. Seemed the beast had learned. Adrian ducked back around the corner, closing his eyes and cursing. His arm hung useless at his side, though feeling was slowly crawling back into the limb. Very slowly.

“Should you be using that kind of language, you heathen?” John asked, inspecting his perfectly managed fingernails that never changed.

“Well,” Adrian replied distantly as he racked his brain for another idea, “ If I'm already a heathen I don't see why not.”

He glanced around the corner again even though his soul could already tell the viper hadn't moved an inch.  _ Think. _ He ordered his brain, smacking his head lightly. He couldn't pin the other snake, and he couldn't risk attacking it with an orange weapon. He was already one arm down as it was, and he would still have to fight the main body of the creature. 

A soft hissing sound came from around the wall, not the snake but a sound like rushing water. Adrian watched in horror as the snake opened its mouth, black mist pouring out and tumbling its way across the floor toward him. He didn't know what it did, but whatever it was couldn't be good.

He turned back to the wall, pouring magic into the runes on his good arm. He touched the wall, but briefly this time, so that only a small dip was formed. Enough feeling had returned to his arm that he could at least curl his fingers a little and he could manage a controlled flail to move it. It would have to do. 

He set his foot into the newly formed step, creating a new handhold above him and grabbing onto that. He created new ones for his hands as he went and set is feet into the ones left behind. He wasn't quite quick enough though. The mist raced across the ground, reaching for Adrian even as he tried to escape. It brushed against the bottom of his bare foot, sending more icy spears up his leg. Adrian gasped but forced himself to keep fumbling up and away from that cold weapon. He heaved himself on top of the maze wall, panting and tentatively poking his leg. He was doing  _ great _ . Only his right arm and his left leg still worked. Just  _ perfect _ .

He didn't have even a moment to catch his breath. The snake’s body lengthened, stretching like the odd slime Edgar had shown him once. Adrian rolled out of the way as the viper sunk its long teeth into the spot where Adrian had been laying. It hissed, pulling back and breaking off that section of the wall. Its huge white eyes settled on Adrian once more, blank voids that reflected nothing.

This was it, wasn't it? Adrian was such a fool to believe that the Arch-mage wouldn't have one last trick up his sleeve, one more mountain to climb over. Without his magic, he had no way of defending it. There would only be that horrible, biting cold all over his body, swallowing him up like the frigid waves of the ocean, drowning him and dragging him deeper and deeper...

And he had been so close. Staring into the eyes of this thing that wasn't alive, he couldn't stop thinking of the injustice of it all. It just wasn't  _ fair _ . He almost had it. And as the snake drew its body back to strike, Adrian couldn't help but think how he couldn't go through all of this again. He wouldn't go through this again. He was right here, he would not lose everything now.

He screamed, soul straining with everything he had until he felt something pop. He raised a hand as the snake lunged forward, fire billowing from his palm and enveloping the beast in its hungry grasp. There was no smell as the magic making up the creature cooked. The snake wailed in pain, and Adrian didn't stop spraying fire until those wails stopped. 

He slumped in relief, too exhausted to manage much else. That was until the lion roared, pumping more adrenaline into Adrian’s body. He climbed to his feet as quickly as he could with one lame leg, eyes widening as more surprises revealed themselves before him. The lion shook its massive body, wings unfurling from its sides where they were hidden. The lion flapped its giant wings twice, pulling it into the air. The spots on the stairs where its paws had been were shrouded in more of the dark mist, spiraling masses of icy pain. Even though the beast had moved, Adrian still couldn’t take the stairs. He would have to carve his way up the wall, and for that he would have to slay the lion first.

Adrian hobbled along the wall as the lion descended on him, pouncing like a giant deadly kitty on the spot he had been standing. It lifted its paws, eyes fizzing around the edges slightly when it saw its prey had escaped him. It snapped its head up just as Adrian lifted his good hand and released a barrage of fire.

The beast backed up, the charred stub of one tail and the clean cut stump of the other twitching and its colorless eyes widening. Adrian actually felt a pang of pity strike through him, as cold and painful as any of this beast’s attacks. He knew these things weren’t really alive, that they didn’t have a soul, but still. It could feel pain. It could feel fear. Attacking this felt like he was attacking a real cat, burning a real kitten to death.

Adrian fell back as the lion lunged through the fire, a light green hue glowing around it. Shield magic. It soared over the boy, landing behind him and whirling around to face him. Adrian rolled out of the way as the beast brought a paw down to crush him, catching himself with his good arm as he rolled right off the side of the wall. He cried out, blood rushing in his ears as he stared down at the ground that seemed so far away. The logical part of his brain knew that he could catch himself with a green shield, but the other human part of his mind just saw a plummet and landing that would kill him. He took a deep breath, tearing his gaze from the ground up to where the lion stood, looking down at him. It raised its paw again. Adrian closed his eyes and forced himself to let go, summoning a shield a short length beneath him. Chunks of the wall rained down past him as the lion slammed its paw into the side. Adrian had to summon another shield above him to avoid being crushed by the debris.

“You were ready to kill a person, but you can’t dispel a conjuring?” John shouted down from above the boy, standing next to the shadow beast as it unfurled its wings once more. “Pathetic.”

“I’m not pathetic.” Adrian gritted out, climbing to his feet and ignoring the pain. “I’m  _ not _ pathetic!” He waited for the beast as it flew up and swooped down to where Adrian was standing on his shield in the corridor of the maze. He raised his arm as it closed the distance, staring down those awful white eyes. It opened its giant maw, revealing black teeth bigger than him, and let out another roar. Adrian let himself be swallowed up by that horrible, gaping mouth, swallowed up by the cold.

It was almost too much. Everything was numb, yet everything still managed to  _ hurt _ . Adrian clenched his teeth, forcing magic out around him. Warm, wicked flames that grew from his skin and his clothes, eating the beast from the inside out where it had no green shields to protect it. Its agonized roars were magnified by a thousand inside its body, so loud Adrian was sure his ears would start bleeding. 

The shadows began to recede, and Adrian summoned a shield beneath him. The rest of the beast fell away as first the flames ate at it, then his Karmic Retribution. Its head, being at the end of its body, was one of the last things to go, screeching and wailing all the way. Adrian watched with tired eyes as it disintegrated into golden magic particles that rained down onto the slate gray ground far below.

He curled up, squeezing his eyes shut and hissing against the pain. His entire body felt so cold, like his blood had been replaced with slush and his flesh with ice. He didn’t know how long he laid there, fighting to stay conscious, but eventually the brutal beginning of the spell passed and just left him exhausted. He summoned a slide down from where he was, slipping down it to the closest part of the staircase that wasn’t covered in mist. He muttered a spell and wind blew down, sweeping the mist away into the rest of the room. He slowly trudged his way up, focusing on each step, on just moving one leg at a time. He almost didn’t even realize when he reached the top of the stairs, where the heavy door stood. It was locked, but blue magic swiftly had it unlocked and swinging open.

It was night outside, and Adrian might have been disappointed by that if he wasn’t so tired. Waiting for him was the Arch-mage and what Adrian thought was a different healer, but he couldn’t remember the last one’s face exactly. The man looked down his nose at his son, expression utterly indifferent. He didn’t even say anything, no praise, no criticism, just signaled for the healer to help him with a wave of his hand. The girl didn’t say anything, hurriedly rushing forward and pouring magic into Adrian. It washed away the remaining pain and cold, like sitting next to a warm fire, though it couldn’t do anything about his exhaustion. Once the girl had stepped back the Arch-mage nodded curtly, turning and striding away. Adrian stood for a moment before bringing himself into a stumble after him.

“You cheated.” The man eventually said as he led Adrian back to his room. “You used a spell you should not have known and broke through my magic dampener.”

“What else was I supposed to do?” Adrian mumbled, struggling to keep his eyes open.

He didn’t expect the slap that threw him to the ground. He glared up at the Arch-mage, cheek stinging. The man glared back like he was a worm who had crawled from his perfectly kept lawn and tarnished his unblemished ground. “Speak clearly or do not speak at all. I’m in no mood for your games.”

Once the man had whirled back around, Adrian cradled his cheek that had just finally been healed. He climbed back to his feet, forcing himself into a run to catch up with him. “What else could I do? There wasn’t exactly another way to get through that.”

“A sufficient punishment will have to be executed.” The Arch-mage snarled as if he hadn’t heard him. “But there is time for that yet. You will go to sleep now, and you will be woken up at dawn for your next leg of training.”

Adrian stifled a groan, deciding that he did not want to be slapped again. He just bowed his head and walked past the Arch-mage into his room when the man opened the cellar door. The brief moment of fresh air had been nice, but already he was being stuffed underground again. Adrian quickly summoned a ball of light just in case, even though he knew nothing was hiding in the darkness. He swept his gaze around the room. It hadn’t changed much, there was just a fine layer of dust over everything now. With a sigh the boy had it cleaned up, the mess piled up into the far corner. 

There was a sense of dread growing in his chest, eating at his insides as he sat down on the edge of his bed. He didn’t want to be underground again. What if they didn’t let him out? The Arch-mage had said he would be punished for how he had escaped the trial. What if he kept him down here to punish him? Adrian could feel his breath quickening, heart racing. Even though he was so tired, he found he couldn’t just sit down. He got onto his feet again, pacing around the room while trying to calm himself down with deep breaths.

“It would serve you right,” John observed, walking around the edges of the tiny room and inspecting every crack and blemish, “If they simple left you down here to rot. I told you that you were cheating, but being the stupid, insolent child you are, you didn’t listen.”

Adrian just shook his head, burying his face in his hands and continuing to walk back and forth on silent feet. He needed to go to sleep. He didn’t have the time to be dealing with these emotions right now.

He forced himself to plop down on the edge of his bed again, taking deep breaths. He eyed his newly healed arm for a moment before digging his nails into the flesh and curling in on himself as the pain washed over him. He closed his eyes, breathing out a shaky sigh of relief as the emotions dissipated a bit.

“Kill yourself.”

Adrian snapped his gaze up, staring at the apparition in shock. His mouth worked, but no sound came out.

“It would be easier than this.” The man said, motioning to the room with a broad wave that somehow encompassed much more than the drab stone around them. “It would be an escape. After all, you have no idea what I’m going to subject you to, and it would be so easy.” John snapped his fingers and an orange dagger appeared in his other hand. Even though Adrian knew it was just a hallucination, he eyed it warily. “Besides, it would be just so much more convenient for me if you died. So be a good boy and do as your father asks.” The ghost leaned forward, offering the weapon like it was a sweet treat.

Adrian would be lying if he said the idea didn’t sound a little appealing, but he couldn’t. His mother was counting on him. And if he died, who would be around to remember Edgar? 

He laid down on his bed, turning onto his side so he wasn’t looking at him. “No.”

“Well, it’s always an option.” John said with a sigh. After a moment, he grumbled, “Should have known it wouldn’t be so easy.”

A part of Adrian’s mind wondered why it would be better for John if he died, since if he died so did the hallucination. But Adrian had come to learn that John had all sorts of backward thoughts like that, and if he questioned him on it, he wouldn’t get an answer. He stared at his wall, thinking for a while before deciding. He cautiously let his soul out of Battle, holding his breath. A moment passed, then two, then ten, and nothing happened. He slowly let himself relax, crawling under the blanket- he never realized how much he had missed that- and savoring the cushion of his bed and pillow. At least he didn’t have to sleep on the hard floor anymore. His eyes drifted closed, and he let himself fall asleep, body and soul relaxed for once.

He woke up to biting teeth in his shoulder. He screamed, thrashing against the threat until his sense returned to him and he summoned a new ball of light. His other must have fizzled out without him paying attention to it. Immediately, the shadow dog faded away into black magic particles. They sparkled away into nothingness. 

Adrian panted, clutching at his shoulder. Blood flowed freely from the wound, running down his arm and staining his blanket. He looked around when he realized it was silent, but John was nowhere to be seen. At least he was leaving him alone. The boy ground his teeth, stumbling to his feet and testing the door. It was locked again, but blue magic had it open soon enough. He trudged his way along the side of the Arch-mage’s manor, walking to where he thought he remembered the infirmary being. Sure enough, the small building was there at the far end of the yard. Adrian grunted, his arm yelling at him to hurry up.

As he was walking past the front doors, they flung open. Adrian stopped, cringing back in fear. The Arch-mage was standing there, trailed by two servants and a fat man in black robes. Adrian thought he looked like the priest back home before realizing that was what he was. The group didn’t seem to notice him though as the two men in front continued to argue.

“This is not under negotiation.” The Arch-mage said sternly, crossing his arms. “I  _ will _ receive double the original payment this year. The boy is progressing at a much faster rate than anticipated, so I will be compensated for it.”

“I should think you should be paid less.” The man argued back. “If you don’t have him for as long.”

“Pay me for the vast inconvenience of dealing with you sorry lot then.” The Arch-mage snapped, turning. The moment he did, he caught sight of Adrian and he scowled. “What are you doing?”

Adrian gulped. “I-” He began, but the Arch-mage cut him off with a dismissive wave.

“No matter, I’ll deal with you in a moment.” The man turned back to the priest. “Double. I will not budge on this. You can do whatever you want with our other agreements beyond that.”

The priest sighed. He was an older man with a bald head and bushy eyebrows that pinched together when he talked. His flesh drooped from his bones and trembled with every movement. “I suppose that can be worked with. How are your other students coming along?”

Even though the Arch-mage had spoken to Adrian with his usual indifference, he kept glancing back at him while the priest spoke. “They’re coming along at pace. The girl shows great potential in illusion magic, and the boys show promise in elemental magic. I’m sure they’re be great assets to you once they’re ready.”

The priest nodded, motioning to his servant. He scurried past him and down the steps, passing by Adrian without even looking up. He raced over to where a carriage was waiting by the fountain, opening the door. The priest began to amble toward it, the Arch-mage still following with his own servant right behind. “Good, good. The war is very stagnant right now, and we think some more mages will help turn the tide of battle. Get them out as soon as they’re ready. Are their families paying you adequately?”

“Quite.” The Arch-mage replied, staring dagger at Adrian. The boy cringed away, his shoulder completely forgotten in the face of the Arch-mage’s wrath. Oh God, he couldn’t go through a whipping like the last one again. “That is of no concern.”

The priest nodded vigorously, skin flopping up and down. “Well then, I will see you next year for the next checkup.” The man stopped as he was walking past Adrian, gazing down at the child curiously. “Be a good boy, wouldn’t want anything to happen to your poor mother, now would you?”

Adrian stared back at him, unable to speak past the fear clutching at his throat.

The priest continued on, climbing into his carriage and rolling away. Adrian braced himself for whatever the Arch-mage had in mind. The man peered down at him, like a crow eyeing a grub before gobbling it up. “Well,” He said after a few moments, voice clipped, “I see you let your soul out of Battle. I would not recommend that if you don’t want to be surprised.” The man smiled cruelly, gleefully. “And since you’re so eager to be up and about, why don’t we start your training now? I’ll start teaching you how to fly.”

While the idea would have sounded nice, the way the man said it made the blood drain from Adrian’s face. He turned with a flourish of his purple robes, motioning for him to follow.

“I told you,” John whispered into Adrian’s ear, “It’ll only go downhill from here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back! Sorry, I actually meant to get out a chapter sooner but then well, video games happened. Um, what else..?  
> Uhh, I'll post the song I listened to on the tumblr. I'll try to keep getting out a chapter a week, but it may not work out. I'm going to have more schoolwork this year since I'm taking a language and music theory instead of relaxing electives. I'll continue talking about updates on the tumblr, when to expect them and whatnot.  
> It's good to be back! I noticed the writing style for this chapter is a little different. I hope you guys don't mind.


	22. Another on the List of Fails

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geez, it feels like forever since I’ve posted an update... I guess school will do that to you, heh. Sorry guys, I meant to get one up earlier, but then I was getting ready for school, then I was actually going to school, and yeah. I remembered that I had this written though, and while it is very short compared to my other chapters, I figured it was something to let you guys know I’m still alive and writing and whatnot. I’m definitely more busy than I was last school year! I’ll /try/ to get a chapter out at least once a month.  
> As always thank you guys for the support and for reading! I hope I can keep it up!

“Flying is not simply something that can be taught.” The Arch-mage said, gazing down at the ground far below. Adrian didn’t know how high up they were, but the servant they had left below them was just a speck on the ground. The Arch-mage had brought him up here with blue magic, then set a green shield for them to stand on. Adrian gazed over the edge at the ground below, strangely calm despite the flips his stomach was doing. “Your soul either has the control for it, or it doesn’t. It is a rather simple process to find out.” And with that, the man shoved Adrian off the platform.

Adrian screamed, tears streaming from his eyes as he plummeted to the earth below. The cold air stung his face, and the force of the wind bit at his wounded shoulder. A spell was flung over his soul, limiting his magic much more than the one the one the Arch-mage used in the maze, but his blue magic seemed free to use. He flailed, trying to get something out of his soul, a bit of blue magic to slow himself, but nothing happened. He strengthened the pull, but that only made him feel like he was being crushed under a boulder.

Panic gripped at him as the ground drew closer and closer. He desperately tried blue magic again, and when that didn’t work, a green shield to land on. He knew that the Arch-mage wouldn’t let him become a stain on the stone below, but it still did nothing to calm him. Somehow he knew that he wouldn’t escape some type of punishment for this particular failure.

He squeezed his eyes shut during the last stretch, when he could start picking out the fine cracks in the pavement. He landed with a crunch and sharp, deep aches all over his body as his bones snapped like twigs. He couldn’t scream, couldn’t even gasp past the pain, especially since his jaw and face were largely broken. Everything hurt. Everything was just a white, burning blur as his mind tried to fathom what his body was telling him. For a moment, Adrian believed he had died.

The pain evaporated like it always did, but the time it took to reach that was endless, timeless agony. When he could finally register something other than pain, he saw the healer that had been left below them, her eyes glowing bright green. Once he was fully healed, she drew back, head bowed.

Adrian took a moment to breathe before he sat up and found himself on a shield. That explained why he didn't die on impact. He waited silently, still trembling, with the servant while the Arch-mage floated down to join them.

He didn't say anything, just grabbed Adrian’s soul with blue magic and brought him back to the top of the world to fall again. Adrian bit the inside of his lip to keep himself from crying, screaming against it. His body itched with phantom pains, he mind still reeling.

He wanted to shout. Why was this happening to him? He wanted to beg the Arch-mage to make it stop, but before he could, the magic around him was released. He didn't scream going down this time. He just curled up, crying and hoping his soul would save him.

 

Two years. Two more years had passed. Everyday, eight times a day, the Arch-mage would throw him down like a watermelon that could just be put together again if it split. And he could be healed, on the outside at least. But just like the watermelon, you could fix the outside, but the inside would still be scrambled.

At first, Adrian had continued to be crushed by the sadness and the loneliness. Those horrible feelings when the staff acted like he didn't exist, when the Arch-mage sighed with so much disappointment while his expression didn't change, when his own mind ridiculed him with voices asking him why he was so weak and useless. He had pushed those feelings down though, ignored them and unknowingly let them fester in his gut. About a year into his flying training, the despair condensed into anger.

Adrian wasn't really sure who he was angry at. At first he thought it was the Arch-mage, but soon enough he found himself shouting at servants when they brought him cold food and at himself, internally, every time he failed. He needed to succeed. To prove to himself he was better than what the Arch-mage thought of him.

The only problem was that the anger fed each other in an endless cycle. He got mad at the servants, which made him mad at himself since they didn't need to deal with any more than the Arch-mage. Then when he got mad at himself, he got mad at the Arch-mage for being the source of all this suffering, and that pent up rage only made him snap at servants. It was an out of control spiral, dragging him deeper and deeper until he didn't even know if he could escape if he tried.

The exhaustion wasn't a burden anymore, really. It was almost, sadly, like an old friend, the only one he had in this place. It was always there, always just buried, but would surface if he focused on it. He didn't dare let his soul out of Battle anymore. Even with the magic sensor, he would wake up screaming, certain that he had let his defenses drop and was being swarmed with creatures that bit and tore at his flesh.

Since the first night, there had been about one hundred fifty times he would startle awake as his soul felt something appear in the night. He would snap his eyes open to those blank white eyes staring at him from the darkness. Sometimes it happened two or three times a night. Adrian knew though. He knew the Arch-mage would try to catch him off guard. He had been prepared each time; he would never be caught off guard again.

John came and went as he pleased. Some days he simply wouldn’t shut up, others Adrian didn’t even see him. It was always the same with him though, belittling him and telling him to kill himself, then making him feel guilty when the boy considered it. And Adrian did consider it, more times than he would like to admit.

He started awake as his soul sensed something, and he rubbed his eyes drowsily. It was the Arch-mage’s familiar soul, come to take him for flying training. He got up and quickly threw on a clean shirt- the Arch-mage somehow always knew when he didn't change his clothing and would punish him in some excruciating manner or another. He shivered at the thought. _It's just pain_ . He thought, trying to lie to himself until he believed it. _It's not bad. It's just pain._

The Arch-mage threw open the door unceremoniously, stomping down the stairs as his eyes faded from glowing dark blue back to glowing white. Of course he couldn’t be bothered by something so trivial as opening a door with his hands. He stared at Adrian for a moment, eyes flickering in a way the boy had never seen before, like a candle uncertain if it wanted to go out or not. After several long moments where Adrian had to bite his tongue to keep from speaking out of turn, the Arch-mage grunted and crossed his arms.

“If you were able to fly, the ability would have surfaced by now.” He grumbled. “As such, you will be moving on to the next segment of your training. You will come with me, and if you say anything to anyone at any point, I will beat you within an inch of your life and kill your mother without a second thought.”

Adrian stared at his father with unblinking, glowing white eyes. The threats barely fazed him anymore. They were all the same, but the usual guilt was still there, the need to protect his mother, the one who had birthed and raised him while his father was here. He nodded curtly and followed the Arch-mage as he turned and brought him to the sparring lot.

His other students were there, the girl and two boys Adrian hadn’t seen in years. They were talking, but the moment the Arch-mage came into view they shut up and turned to greet him. Their expressions soured the moment Adrian came into their line of sight, but the boy didn’t care. He didn’t care about much of anything anymore.

“Students, this is my son, Adrian.” The Arch-mage said so cordially that Adrian looked at him in utter shock. The Arch-mage glanced at him with an expression he was more used to though, a warning glare. _Don’t say anything_ , it said. So Adrian didn’t and went back to staring down one of them as the older boy narrowed his eyes at him. “He will be sparing each of you today.”

The girl grimaced, looking him up and down. Adrian wasn’t sure if she recognized him or not. “He looks a little young.”

“I assure you,” The Arch-mage replied in that same almost kind tone of voice, “he can handle himself. Wouldn’t you say, my boy?”

Adrian blanched, breaking away from his staring contest to look up at the Arch-mage. The way he said it- but no, his eyes told a different story. Adrian patiently waited, or at least tried to, for the Arch-mage to reveal what he was trying to do, and did not respond.

The Arch-mage grimaced slightly. “Sorry, he’s shy. Why don’t we-”

“Isn’t that the kid who attacked us?” Max snarled suddenly, breaking away from examining Adrian’s face. Looked like one of them finally figured it out, and it was, almost poetically, the one Adrian had attacked first.

Serena blinked twice and Greg observed from over her shoulder, brow furrowed. “Hey, yeah, you’re right. What the hell is he doing here?”

The Arch-mage held up his hands apologetically, making Adrian have to suppress a dry laugh. “I'm sorry, but he's my son and I have to train him. You understand, don't you?”

Serena sniffed disdainfully. “Just keep him on a tight leash. I don’t know if you know what it feels like to be crushed into a pulp by green magic, but I don’t want to go through it again.”

The Arch-mage waved his hand dismissively, but not in the way he usually did. More like... an actual person who actually cared about other people. The thought made Adrian shiver; he knew what was hiding beneath the jovial cloak the Arch-mage had put on. “Don’t worry about that. Now, who would like to spar him first?”

He... was giving them a choice? Adrian suddenly felt cheated. The Arch-mage treated these students well. He had the choice whether to teach them or not, and he was getting paid to do it. Yet he hated his own son with a passion, treating him as nothing more than trash he stuck to the bottom of his shoe that he couldn’t remove.

“I’ll go first.” Max said firmly, eyes hard and cold as rocks. He spun around before the Arch-mage could say anything, stomping to stand at one end of the training field.

Adrian glanced at the Arch-mage for confirmation, and the man motioned with his head for Adrian to do the same. Adrian sighed, but didn’t say anything, moving to stand at the opposite side. The sand was slick beneath his feet and got inbetween his toes; he hadn’t wore shoes since the maze, he didn’t see the need.

Max’s expression of hatred and distrust had been wiped away and replaced with a predatory smile. He watched Adrian with keen eyes like a hawk, eyes that began to glow white as he stirred the magic inside him to life and pushed himself into Battle. Adrian rolled his already glowing eyes, stretching the magic in his soul. He smirked when Max visibly blanched.

Adrian didn’t have anything here. The clothes he wore were not his own, both his furniture and his room were on loan, and his supposed father acted like a slavemaster. He did have this though; he did have the ability to frighten people who thought they were better than him, then beat the crap out of them. He smiled as the Arch-mage opened his mouth, waving Serena and Greg back. “Begin.”


	23. Children of Ash

Gaster wasn’t sure why he kept walking. Was it guilt, pushing him forward, the promise to fulfill a last wish? Was it anger at a world that deserved to know it hadn’t completely crushed him with its weight? Was it spite to just keep living when everyone thought he would have killed himself by now? He didn’t know why, but every day he found himself placing one foot in front of the other.

It had been four grueling days of walking during the night and resting during the day. Sans had tried to talk to him the first couple of days, offered to take shifts on watch, but Gaster didn't bother to respond. He tried not to be angry at the skeleton, blame him a little for her death. Instead he directed those emotions at himself, all the while the weight of what he had done thumping against his chest with every step and evident in his soul. Sans didn't seem to suspect anything. Gaster didn't know how he'd react if he found out he had been the one to really kill her.

Gaster once again found himself utterly exhausted. He hadn't felt this drained since his training with the Arch-mage, but now it felt worse, if that was even possible. Gaster thought it had to do with the timing. He had lost his mother back when he was still a carefully optimistic child; losing her had been painful but manageable so long as he clung to the memories. Now, he had already been beaten, broken, and just when he had thought he might actually be saved, his remaining hope was crushed and thrown into the fire.

He hadn't bothered to check his HP. He wouldn't be surprised if it was a lonely one. It didn't matter anymore. He didn't have a reason to live, so why be concerned about it?

He had failed  _ all of them _ . Mother, Edgar, all the monsters, Lytle, and he was nothing but one huge failure in his father's eyes. He just couldn't keep trying when everyone he grew to care about perished. He would deliver Sans and that would be it. Originally, he had planned to try tracking down his mother. The Arch-mage had probably killed her by now though. What need did he have for her once Gaster had finished his training, was already too deep in the water to consider struggling to the surface?

So Gaster put one foot in front of the other, determined to get Sans back to his army. That little wisp of Determination kept his soul desperately holding onto his last bit of HP.

* * *

Sans didn't know what to do. It was like he was walking behind a corpse. Gaster never responded to him when he asked a question, his feet dragged like they were cold and stiff, and his eyes glowed so dimly Sans wondered at times if they were even glowing at all.

He just didn’t know what to do. He knew Gaster blamed himself for Lytle’s death, but what could he say that would convince him it wasn’t his fault? Monsters were different, they accepted death more as just another part of life. Maybe that was why their souls couldn’t handle Determination; they certainly didn’t want to die, but they certainly didn’t fear it as much as a human.

Sans sighed loudly, watching Gaster to see if he got a reaction. He didn’t, of course, so he leaned in closer and sighed louder. The man didn’t even flinch. Sans drew back, grumbling and eyeing Gaster as he shuffled on in front of him. Eventually he turned his gaze to their surroundings.

It was actually quite a pretty, if boring, landscape, with rolling hills and tall grass that rustled gently with even the slightest breeze. Sans turned his sight skywards. The stars shone brightly, pinpricks of white against a canvas of black. The moon hung high above, a pale sliver suspended in the night sky. Sans had to admit, he had missed it while cooped up in the lab.

He cursed as his foot caught on a piece of rock jutting out of the earth while he wasn’t watching where he was going. Gaster actually stopped and glanced back, mistaking his stumble for exhaustion. His eyes swept around them until they settled on a depression in the ground to the left of where they were walking. His eyes flashed blue, and the ground there trembled as he pushed it down to create a better hiding place. There wasn’t much sound, but there was a puff of dust as the dirt settled. Gaster gestured for Sans to go first.

It was the same with any place they made camp. The depression was about half as deep as Sans was tall and just wide enough for him to be able to curl up inside. He dropped down into it, not about to complain or correct. Gaster sat on the ledge, legs tucked up under him and head barely poking above the grass. For some reason, it made Sans think of a prairie dog.

“You know, Gaster,” Sans began tentatively, settling down into the pit, “I forgot how nice the stars look. I missed the sun, too.” Gaster didn’t respond, just sat staring at his lap. The thought crossed his mind that he could tell Gaster he was going to go jump off a cliff and Gaster wouldn’t do anything. He curled his hands into fists and refused to be discouraged. “Yeah, did you see the sunset? It was beautiful, like a master painter had made the sky his canvas. Sure is nice to be alive and experience the little things, eh?”

Gaster’s eyes flicked up to meet Sans’ sockets, but they quickly drifted back toward the ground. 

“I’m kind of hungry.” Sans persisted, trying to keep the exasperation out of his voice. “Got anything to eat?”

Gaster absently grabbed a handful of grass next to him and pulled it out of the ground with blue magic. As the human’s eyes flashed brighter, the grass twisted and melded into a full head of cabbage. Sans took it from his cold hands, munching on it thoughtfully as he considered how to get Gaster to talk. Sans didn’t really know what the human had been through- well he knew everything that had happened the last few weeks, but the rest of his life was a mystery. Sans suddenly wished he knew so he could understand what Gaster was feeling. He thought about using his Eye, but Gaster would notice that. Would he care though..?

No, it was still a huge breach of privacy. Sans respected the doctor too much for that, well, now anyways. It would be risky, but maybe he should just try tackling the subject headon. “I miss her.” Sans said with a sigh, lowering the half-eaten cabbage. Gaster’s gaze snapped to his, his eyes flashing with sharp clarity. Sans drew in a deep breath to steel himself against what may come from his actions. “I know you miss her too.”

Gaster met Sans’ sockets for exactly one second more before he turned away, ashamed.  _ But why? _ Sans thought, tapping the cool outer leaf of his dinner.  _ He has to realize it’s not his fault. But how do I do that... _

“She was the last straw, Sans.” Gaster said, voice dull and subdued. Sans started. The man closed his eyes, sighing tiredly. “I can’t do it anymore. Please stop trying to make me feel better. Stop trying to make me feel like I should keep living. I  _ don’t _ have a reason.”

“You have me.” Sans offered tentatively.

Gaster looked at him and snorted, his eyes hard and voice sharp. “Yes, I have a monster. A monster that will die before the war is done, and if by some miracle you don’t, you’ll be killed in the aftermath. You’re already dead, Sans. So tell me again, what do I have?”

Sans tried to think of something to say, but he was too offended. He knew Gaster was hurting, but still, that was a little harsh. 

Gaster groaned and held his head in his hands. “I just don’t understand how you can keep fighting.”

Sans arched a brow bone. “Why wouldn't I?”

Gaster shook his head, still clutching it. “You're a soldier. I'm sure you understand loss. How can you keep going knowing how many people you love have died because of you? Died so that you may live?”

Sans waited until Gaster looked up, that way he could hold his gaze steadily. “That's exactly why you have to keep living, Gaster.” Thoughts of monsters decades his senior and years his junior raced through his mind, monsters that were just memories now. Memories that lived on through the families they raised and the people they saved. “For them, because they're not alive to enjoy life anymore. So you have to do it for them.”

Gaster frowned and crossed his arms. Sans left him alone to let him mule over what he had said and so he could relive cherished memories of the monsters who had once fought beside him. Gaster didn't seem like he wanted to talk either, the guarded way he had his arms crossed and he almost seemed to be collapsing in on himself.

What Sans had said had really hit a chord with him, Sans could tell. He smiled and settled down to sleep.

Gaster did not smile as his back straightened, but neither did he cry. For the first time since they had started walking, Gaster tore his gaze from the ground and gazed up at the stars overhead. For some reason, the human placed his hand over his heart gently, like a baby duckling was hiding in a pocket there.

It wasn't much, but it was something. And Sans would definitely take it.

* * *

The next afternoon, Sans was woken by Gaster’s gentle prodding, and they continued on their way. Apparently, Gaster thought it safe to walk during the day, or maybe he just wanted to make up for lost time. As always, Gaster consulted his map for a moment as they walkes to make sure they were still heading in the right direction. He still didn't respond when Sans said something, but he did start glancing at the scenery around them every so often. There was also a little more life in his eyes, even if it wasn't much. It was a start.

Sans was  _ determined _ to make Gaster see life was still worthwhile. It felt odd, almost dangerous, but he  _ would _ do it, no matter the costs. Sans couldn't live with himself if he knew he hadn't been able to save him.

Something black appeared on the horizon. Sans squinted his sockets, but that didn't do anything to help him see any better. It wasn't a speck that got bigger, so Sans wasn't particularly concerned, but they were walking towards it. It didn't look like something on the horizon but more along the lines of it  _ was _ the horizon. A black line connected to green on either side.

“Do you see that?” Sans asked. Gaster looked up, his eyes narrowed to slits against the bright sun. He nodded, frowning. “What do you think it is?”

Gaster stared a moment longer. “I don't know.” He said very softly, nearly too softly to hear. 

Sans felt a bubble of giddiness rise in him at the progress. “Should we check it out? Would it be too risky?”

Gaster was obviously troubled by some thought, but whatever it was he didn't voice it to Sans. “We're walking in that direction anyways. Might as well.” He mumbled with a slight shrug.

Sans nodded, and Gaster dutifully took the lead again. It took them a while to get close enough to make out any more details, but what they found made Sans’ metaphorical stomach churn. The line on the horizon wasn't just black; it was  _ charred. _ Images of a beaten girl on a stake and the phantom stench of burning blood filled his skull. He swallowed hard, forcing himself not to show his dismay. If the way Gaster’s face had gone slack was any hint, he was disturbed by painful memories as well. Sans would be strong, for him.

“Maybe,” Gaster choked out to Sans’ shock, “I should just teleport us past this.”

Sans grimaced. “We agreed not to do that. It takes too much out of your soul.”

Gaster grunted noncommittally, but did not say anything more. 

The closer they got, the more tense they both became, until they found themselves at the edge if the destruction. Sans had been hoping it had just been a wildfire, but of course it had to be more tragic than that. 

It looked like a camp. Or at least, that's what it used to be. There was hardly more than ashes now, and the occasional burnt piece of metal poking through them. Sans wasn't sure if it was a human or a monster camp, but either way it was awful what had happened here. He suspected it used to be a monster camp since he couldn't picture monsters ruthlessly burning the entire place down to nothing.

It smelled like grease and death. The air was still and sticky, the only sound the haunting rustle of wind.

Gaster stared at the area, and Sans could almost see the flames he was thinking of in his eyes. Sans had to stand on his tiptoes, but he laid a hand on his shoulder. “I'll check it out. Wait here.” 

Gaster nodded, turning away from the scene. 

Sans picked his way carefully across the ashy ground, each footfall causing a little cloud of the black dust to puff up. He didn't see any weapons poking through the ash but they were there. They had to be.

This... didn't look like any army camp Sans knew. Most of it was just ash. Monsters camps used stone buildings that could quickly be constructed with magic. Human camps had some stone buildings, too. But there was none of that here. There didn't seem to be  _ anything  _ here.

That's when he saw the skeletons. 

They were piled one on top of the other, dirty from ash and still stuck to charred and decaying flesh. The stench was horrible, and Sans wasn't even very close to the mound yet, like rotten eggs and mildew and death. He choked down the urge to throw up, drawing closer.

He stepped in something gritty, something familiar that made his stomach flip and his soul shrivel. He stumbled back, kicking up white dust as he went. He had been so focused on what was ahead that he hadn't known what was at his feet.

There... were human  _ and _ monster remains here. What was this place?

Sans surveyed the scene, but no clues were popping out at him. He couldn't understand. The bodies had to be drug here, or maybe they were brought here while they were alive, killed, and thrown on the pile. Whoever did this had to have done that with the monsters; if they had just be killed throughout the camp, the dust would have been everywhere. This had been a systematic slaughter. At the horror of the thought, Sans realized this was only the beginning. If humans won the war, the entirety of monsterkind would be just like the nameless remains here. 

In that moment, past friends lost, enemies slain, and battles fought, the war had never seemed more real to him.

Sans jumped as he felt a soul nearby. Their presence was weak, but he could feel it somewhere close. It... it seemed to be on the other side of the pile of human skeletons. He gulped as his stomach threatened him again, but began creeping along the edge of the circle of death anyways. There was a monster over there, a weak and alone monster. Sans would not leave them.

As he got closer, he turned at the sound of running feet. He gasped at the sight of a human boy sprinting toward him. He tried to use blue magic to stop him, but he didn’t react quickly enough. The boy tackled him, ramming into him like a human cannonball. Sans grunted as he smacked into the ground, skull and tailbone smarting.

“Stay away from her!” The kid shrieked in  _ monster _ . Sans blinked at hearing his native language from a human that couldn’t have been older than eight or nine. “I’ll kill you if you try to hurt her!”

Sans could sense his soul now, the other soul must have been covering his presence. Before the skeleton could conjure any magic, another voice shouted above the scuffle in the ash. “Vari, no! Run!” The human boy was picked up from on top of him. Sans stayed on the ground for a moment, stunned.

The hands had been  _ furred. _

Sans sat up and watched as the little human struggled against an older bunny monster. The bunny monster was probably fourteen or fifteen judging from what Sans could feel of their soul. “Stop fighting me! You have to run!”

Vari wretched himself from the monster’s grasp. “I’m going to protect you, Reya! Go! I’ll hold him off!”

Vari was a much different picture compared to either Gaster or Lytle, with tan skin and black hair. His eyes were green, but a dark green like summer leaves unlike the shining emerald Lytle had. Reya had mottled white and light brown fur, brown being the more dominant color with a large patch of white climbing up her neck and two small dots at the beginning of where her eyebrows would be if she had any. One ear was white, the other was brown. They both wore tattered clothing that might have been colored at one time, but now just looked a greasy black.

“Whoa, whoa,” Sans said quickly, holding up his hands, “no need to get violent, kid. I’m not going to hurt you. Who are you guys? What happened here?”

The bunny shied away from him, grabbing the boy by the shoulder, but he brushed her off. He strode right up to Sans, embarrassingly coming up to the skeleton’s shoulder. “I’m Vari, she’s Reya. And you better not touch her or I’ll knock the grin off your face!”

Sans decided not to point out that he had a skull, he couldn’t help but grin. “Nice to meet you guys. I’m Sans. What happened here?”

Reya whimpered and stepped forward to grab Vari’s hand. The boy took it, but continued to gaze at Sans with a fire in his eyes. “Soldiers came and burned it down. Don’t you got eyes?”

“No, actually.” Sans replied with a raised brow bone. 

Reya took a deep breath and stepped in front of Vari, white nose twitching. “We were living in this camp, a-a refugee camp for humans and monsters displaced by the war.” She swallowed, ears ramrod straight and swivelling back and forth slightly. “About a week ago, some soldiers came and called for a meeting in the heart of the camp.” She gestured nervously to the remains behind her, continuing in a subdued voice. “T-They ushered everyone in and searched through all the tents to make sure everyone had gathered. I-I thought something was wrong, s-so I took Vari and hid in the tree. See, up there, on that hill?” He followed her finger as she pointed to a gnarled, old tree overlooking the camp below. “The inside is all hollowed out. I took Vari and hid in there. We-” She swallowed hard and looked away, ears folding down to lay against her head, “ _ I _ saw everything.”

She began shaking and Vari snatched her hand. “Hey, it’s alright, Reya! The soldiers are gone now! We’re safe. All thanks to you!”

Reya took a deep breath, pulling on a brave face for the boy. “Yeah... yeah, thanks.” She looked up at Sans again, eyes haunted. Sans could only imagine what it had been like. “That’s it really. We’ve been waiting here, eating off any rations that survived. I was planning on going to another camp, but I figured if this camp was destroyed, the others in the area would be too.”

Sans blinked in surprise. “There are  _ more _ camps like this?”

Reya nodded. “A lot of people and monsters have been displaced by the fighting. They come together, monsters growing food with magic and humans supposedly offering protection.” She shivered. “But the human soldiers killed  _ all _ of them. Even their own kind.”

Probably thought they were tainted or something stupid like that. Sans grimaced in disgust. “So what were you going to do?”

She shrugged. “I was trying to figure that out.”

“Well, me and my companion are travelling to the monster army still fighting along the coast. You could come with us.” Sans offered, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder in the approximate direction he and Gaster were heading.

Reya’s ears rose hopefully, though Vari seemed distrustful. Man, that was one wary little kid. “Really?”

“Sure.” Sans said with a nod. “The more the merrier, right? Besides, uh,” Sans rubbed the back of his head, “My friend is in a bit of a rough patch right now. The woman he loved died.”

“Woman?” Vari snarled. Sans jumped at the maliciousness in his voice. “Your friend is a human?”

“Aren’t you?” Sans asked dubiously.

Vari puffed out his chest proudly. “ _ I’m _ an honorary monster. Humans can’t be trusted. Just look what they did to the camp!” He lowered his eyes, bottom lip protruding in a pout. “To our friends. Our family.”

Sans winced, and Reya frantically rushed to comfort him. She stroked his head, murmuring consoling words that Sans didn’t really catch. “My friend is different.” Sans assured him, shuffling awkwardly. “He won’t hurt you or betray us. He has a promise to keep.”

Vari still eyed Sans skeptically, but didn’t protest further. Reya took his hand, smiling gently. “We would be delighted to go with you.”

Sans grinned and motioned for them to follow. “Great! Then I think some more introductions are in order.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo, so I know I said I was going to update once a month right? Well... I really wanted to write this chapter and then I found this song I really like so... yeah. Here's a new chapter. Yayyyy
> 
> I hope this chapter didn't feel too rushed. I was kind of just going with the flow, which is honestly how most of my chapters go, but still. We've met Reya and Vari! Hehe, I actually quite enjoy writing them. They're a bit of a different stroke than our other characters so far.
> 
> Last thing, we are approaching the six month anniversary of this story! I hope you guys are as excited as I am to see where it goes. This is honestly the most devoted I've ever been devoted to a story. I have almost 300 pages written. I think that might be the most devoted I've been to anything, haha. And I think a lot of that has to go to you guys, supporting me and commenting and following and just being amazing. Thank you guys so much! 
> 
> P.S: I kind of wanted to do something for the six month??? I don't know what though. I can't draw very well, but I'd draw my renditions of Lytle or Gaster if you wanted me to. I'd do a special chapter, but I'm not sure what it should be. I already have one in mind for the year anniversary, that's going to be special, hehe. But if you guys have a suggestion, I'm 100% open to them!


	24. What Makes Me Human

It was over in a second.

Max’s eyes flared white with magic, but it was too late. With a flick of his wrist, a green bubble popped up around him, and despite his struggles and the bursts of fire that shot out of his palms, he couldn't break through the shield. 

The Arch-mage grunted as Max looked at him helplessly. “That's enough. Let him go.”

Adrian’s hand twitched, the thought of swiftly and easily crushing the older boy flitting through his mind, but he let his shield drop. Max stumbled as he dropped the quarter inch to the ground and glared at Adrian. Adrian just shrugged and turned back to the Arch-mage as he began speaking again. 

“I told you not to use shields.” He told Adrian sternly. He had said nothing of the sort, but Adrian merely shrugged again, too empty to be offended. “Well, since you like breaking the rules,” Something cold and alive twisted inside Adrian frightfully, afraid of some type of punishment, “the next fight will not be so fair. Greg, join your brother.”

“What?!” Greg stepped back, eyes wide. He looked between his kneeling brother and the boy with white eyes. “He just destroyed Max in a second flat! What am I supposed to do against him!? You're not being fair!” The older boy whined. Adrian narrowed his eyes, something dark brewing in his gut. He swallowed it down.

“You did not listen.” The Arch-mage chided gently. “Both of you will go against my son. Together.”

“Oh.” Greg made a face for a moment but nodded resolutely. “Alright, it's you and me, bro.” He said, walking over to help Max to his feet. Max dusted himself off for some reason unknown to Adrian and nodded. 

Adrian sighed through his nose, watching some of the sand in the lot roll in the wind. With hushed voices and wicked glances over their shoulders, they discussed strategy. After a quarter of an incredibly boring eternity, they turned around, eyes slowly flicking white as they prepared their souls. 

“Begin.”

They tried dashing around him, one on the left and one on the right. Smoke began to pour from their hands as they shouted Latin to help focus their magic. Adrian scoffed and stamped his foot. Violent, white winds tore out from the impact, blowing out their meager flames and throwing them to the ground. With a wave of his hand, spears of ice coalesced above them. Greg was able to collect himself, scrambling out of the way, but Max was pinned down by the accurate strikes, his thick, cotton clothes proving his downfall. 

Greg was surprisingly swift, avoiding each of the next ice spears sent his way by mere inches. Adrian let out a grunt of frustration as the twin managed to free his other half between attacks. Max jumped to his feet, expression dark.

Adrian couldn't help but roll his eyes at their intensity. He snapped his fingers, eyes shining blue as he pulled both of them to their knees under the force of his magic. They struggled for a few moments, souls reaching out and trying to fight, but Adrian’s magic was too overwhelming. Greg buckled under the magic catching himself on his elbows. Max let out a roar, eyes flaring orange. Adrian blinked in surprised as his hold on the boy broke. A moment later, even Greg was able to push himself to his feet, the blue veil surrounding him disappearing with Adrian’s grip on his soul. The brothers took their stances again, their bodies shimmering orange.

Adrian frowned, meeting Max’s orange glare evenly. What was this magic? He had never encountered something like it. Maybe it was his soul's ability; while he had hoped soul abilities would be more  common knowledge, he had quickly learned that not even the Arch-mage had any information on it in his library. There was almost no research in the field of souls, in fact, at least none available to humans. Maybe Adrian could change that one day.

The boys renewed their attacks, working in unison in an attempt to subdue him. Adrian smothered the squirm in his soul to summon a bubble around himself, instead skipping back, summoning a wall of flames to drive his attackers back. Max growled ferally, eyes blazing orange. Greg’s entire body glowed in an orange halo, his eyes shining green as he dove through the fire. Adrian grunted, a slab of ice protecting his arm as he raised it against the sword of his assailant. His concentration faltered, the fire, previously carefully controlled so it couldn't seriously hurt the boy, blazing. It turned white-hot, the air rippling around it. Adrian quickly dropped the spell, but it was too late. Greg cried out, the skin on the back of his neck burned away and his clothes and hair smoking.

Adrian gulped, but there was nothing to do with him now. With a gentle shove of blue magic, he moved the boy, writhing in agony, to the side of the sandlot so he wouldn't be in any more danger.

He returned his attention to Max just as the older boy regained his footing- he must have stumbled back under the heat. The boy glanced at his brother, grimacing. Adrian could feel Max’s soul fluttering faintly, exhausted. He was beat. Adrian relaxed, though he didn't take his soul out of Battle.

Max returned his gaze to Adrian,  sneering. Adrian could dimly feel the boy trying to pull more magic from his soul, but only got a wince in response. With a roar, he sprinted forward wildly, feet kicking up sand and teeth bared.

Adrian started, diving out of the way and getting sand all over his clothes. He frowned, a wave of irritation rolling over him. He snapped upright, eyes washing blue again as he picked the boy up and threw him to the ground next to his brother, who was being attended to by a healer. The healer yelped, scurrying away as Max landed hard and did not get back up.

Adrian let out a long breath, struggling to regain his composure. They were just dirty clothes- he didn't need perfection unlike some people.

The Arch-mage sighed, motioning for the healer to attend to them again. The girl blanched and resumed her work. “Serena,” the man said, addressing the girl with wide eyes at his side. “It's your turn.”

She gawked at him. “By  _ myself? _ ”

The Arch-mage, for some reason, smiled. It looked normal when it was directed at Serena, but it turned dark and maniacal when he turned to Adrian. “Oh, I think you'll be just fine.”

Adrian warily regarded the girl, but she didn't seem like much of anything special. She made a face but picked her skirt up to avoid the sand and stepped into the lot. She plucked at the fine silk, nervously shooting glances at her still incapacitated friends.

“Begin.”

She immediately clapped her hands together, a green bubble popping up around her. It was thin, but she summoned two more on top of that one, the top one cushioned by the bottom two. Adrian cocked his head at the tactic, curiously sending a bolt fire forward. It seared through the first layer, but stopped at the second. The first layer melted away, the second taking its place and a new layer appearing in the third spot as the third moved up to second. 

Idly brushing off the sand on his shirt, Adrian summoned an orange spear, using blue magic to make it float. The shine of orange and blue combined gave the spear a more light-blue gray scheme. He sent it flying forward, effectively piercing through the top two layers but failing to break through the third. Still, Serena yelped, eyes green as she replaced the broken layers with new ones in the same rotation of the original moving on top and two new ones conjured underneath.

Adrian summoned two more spears, one levitating right behind the other and sent them in rapid fire. The first one broke through the top two layers, and the second shattered the last. Serena cried out, dancing out of the way as his magic shot into the ground where she had been standing. Before she could summon another shield, Adrian let loose a spray of fire.

He couldn't see her past the fire, but he could feel her soul pulse as she cried out a spell. The words were drowned out by an eruption of steam as she shot water to neutralize his attack. He blinked, taking a deep breath of the suddenly humid air. He couldn't see her, but he could feel her soul moving, coming around from his right in an attempt to blindside him.

With a wave of his hand, a powerful gust of swept all the steam away, first exposing a frantic Serena, then blowing her off her feet. Adrian expected his spell to carry her all the way to where the Arch-mage’s manor stood, slamming her into the side of the building and ending the fight.

Instead she started flying. 

It was unsteady, and she dipped a couple times as she glided back toward the sandlot, but still she was flying. The one technique Adrian couldn't master. 

For a moment he lost control, but that was all it took.

His eyes blazed blue, and Serena slammed into the ground. Even from a distance there an audible snap and scream. Adrian glanced at the healer as she dashed past him, leaving the twins to bore a seething glare into the back of Adrian’s head. But he couldn't pay attention to them, not when the Arch-mage was giving him a dark look.

“That was too far, Adrian.” He rumbled, striding forward. Adrian tried to step back, but slipped on the sand and fell. The Arch-mage stopped above him, causing Adrian’s heart to shoot into his throat and his stomach to tie in knots. What- what would be his punishment this time around? Maybe he would lock him in the cellar or whip him again or even-

Adrian started. The Arch-mage had his hand extended. Adrian stared at it, the idea that he was offering to help him to his feet too implausible to believe.

The Arch-mage sighed after another moment of Adrian’s stare, reaching down and grabbing his son's arm even as he cringed back. He pulled him upright, dusting off his shoulders. Despite his discomfort, Adrian remained still and silent throughout the entire thing.

“There.” The Arch-mage said, just loud enough for his other students to hear. “Congratulations on winning yet again. I had hoped that these ones would entertain you at least a little, but alas, it seems the only one that still presents a challenge to you is myself.” The man laid his hand on Adrian’s shoulder and turned to motion to where the twins were sulking, a frustrated Serena rubbing a phantom pain in her shoulder and joining them. They all glared at him.

“Go on then, thank them for the spar.” The Arch-mage said, tightening his grip on Adrian’s shoulder. Adrian bit his lip to keep from gasping and remained silent. “Adrian, don't be petty. I thought I taught you better. Be respectful and thank them.”

His grip was so harsh that Adrian’s arm was starting to go numb. He sucked in a quiet breath. Still biting his lip to keep from crying out, he brushed off the Arch-mage’s hand and turned to his room. He could practically feel the indignation rising in the air behind him. Ignoring the Arch-mage’ calls to come back, the boy began stalking back to his room. The Arch-mage sighed loudly, turning back to his valued students and apologizing profusely for the rudeness of his son. Adrian risked a glance back. The other teens glowered at him openly, their bodies tense, and meeting his gaze evenly. Adrian ducked his head and walked faster. He stopped at the door to his room, curling up against the wall and taking deep breaths to calm the snakes writhing in his stomach.

He could have killed that girl. They all knew it too. And because the Arch-mage told him not to speak, he couldn't even apologize. He sucked in another deep breath, feeling uncomfortably close to retching. Of course, that was the Arch-mage’s ploy all along. To make them hate him. To make him isolated and without the hope of finding even a single friend in this stately hell. 

After another moment of rest, Adrian unlocked his door with blue magic and crawled down the steps into his room. His soul still pulsed wildly, the extra strain of actual magic making its usual exhaustion from constant Battle worse. How desperately Adrian wanted to let his grip slip and just go to sleep. He wasn't even sure if he could anymore. And even if he wanted to sleep, the buzz of magic in his soul had been making it difficult to fall asleep lately. He hoped his soul would become accustomed to all the magic and calm down soon.

He crawled under his bed, the confined space somehow making him feel better. He didn't know how long he would be able to lay there, but if he never had to come out again, it would suit him just fine.

* * *

Blurred years of study and fear and hatred. Repeated sparring against people who couldn't hope to beat him, and weeks spent in a room underground testing different runes. That was the rest of the Arch-mage’s training, though the final exam was more... extreme.

Adrian memorized most of the books in the Arch-mage’s library, and he extensively knew the contents of the rest. It got to the point where he had to start doing his own experiments and studies on spells he came up with on his own. The last bit of rebellion was beat out of him when he tried to make a communication spell so he could see his mother. The Arch-mage had sparred him over and over, beating him within an inch of his life then having a healer put him back in the fight. The other students had watched, cheering each time he had been thrown down or stabbed through. After that, he couldn't glance at his stomach without feeling like a spear should be there. He hated it, hated the Arch-mage,  hated the other students (though probably not as much as they hated him), and most of all hated himself. He didn't need John to make him want it all to end, and he never saw the figment of his imagination after that anyways. In some ways, though it only made him hate himself more to admit it, it was so much more lonely without him.

The priest overseeing his training was, apparently, impressed by his skill in making spells. He promised a prestigious position in the army producing spells and using magic to better equip humans to kill monsters, once his training was complete of course. When the Arch-mage was asked, the man would only say the Boy only had to pass one more test to complete his training. He refused to give any details, even just when it would happen.

But then, the time and place had always been out of his control.

They had come in the middle of the night, perhaps hoping to catch him sleeping to make it easy. Of course, sleep had long been evading Adrian no matter how he tried to snatch it. Still, imagine his surprise when he felt three souls closing in on his little cellar door. Three souls, pulsing in a wild, but familiar beat. He closed the book he was reviewing out of boredom, curiously climbing off the bed he had long outgrown and summoning a couple more balls of light to illuminate his room.

One of them pulled open the doors with blue magic, slowly, so that they wouldn't make a sound. Not that it mattered, Adrian was already at the foot of the steps, gazing up at the shocked faces of Serena, Max, and Greg. 

Their shock quickly twisted into horror, though they didn't flee. Adrian wanted to ask them what they wanted, but the Arch-mage would probably find out somehow. Besides, it didn’t really matter to him why they were here so long as they left soon.

“H-How did you know?” Serena stammered at last. “We planned it so meticulously, we were so careful not to let anyone else know... how? How did you find out?”

Adrian blinked in confusion, opening his mouth to voice his many questions before remembering himself and clamping it shut again.

Greg growled. “You know what, who cares? We came here to kill him, I'm not leaving until we have. All three of us can take him if we work together.”

Ah, so that's what they wanted. Adrian fidgeted, his hands forming half thoughts as he dimly heard the others debate whether or not they should still go through with their plan. No doubt the Arch-mage would be furious if Adrian hurt one of his real students. But would he be more angry if Adrian talked to them and tried to come to a peaceful resolution? Both would earn him a punishment, but he wasn't sure which one would be worse.

Eventually, Max threw his hands into the air, pulling Adrian from his thoughts. “I'm with Greg on this one, Serena. We came here for one thing, and I'm not leaving until we've seen it through.”

Serena huffed. “Fine then, but if he breaks a bone or squishes you to a pulp or burns you, don't come crying to me.” They turned to him, brows furrowed and bodies tensed.

Adrian simply climbed the steps and strode past them. They all jumped back, souls lurching into a panicked Battle, but he simply ignored them and began walking towards the front door of the manor.

“H-Hey, where do you think you're going?” Max shouted, stepping forward. His shoe made a scuff sound on the stone path from stray dirt on it. 

“He's going to get the Arch-mage!” Serena hissed, the magic in her soul building. Adrian turned, raising a hand and encasing all of them into a green bubble. Serena cried out as she lost her footing and fell in a heap of skirts, but the boys were silent as they managed to remain upright.

“No, he's not.” Greg rested his hand against the bubble, his eyes glowing white. Adrian could feel it, strangely, the way the heat from his hand began to intensify until it started to burn through the shield. Adrian frowned, his eyes flaring green again as he summoned a larger bubble around the now broken one. He let the broken one fade into green magic particles.

“Yeah, who knows what the Arch-mage would do to us if he found out we laid a hand on his  _ beloved son _ .” Max sneered, eyes glowing orange. A matching sword appeared in his left hand and coated the party's bodies. The boys worked together, breaking out of their green prison with magic strengthened by Bravery. That's what Adrian assumed was what empowered them anyways.

Max’s eyes swirled orange and green as he summoned a shield in his right hand and took a battle stance. Greg took a deep breath, eyes a bright white, flames flickering at his fingertips and ice spreading around his feet. Serena looked between the two of them, huffing as she picked herself up and smoothed out her dress. Adrian couldn't help but think, as he always did, that that was the most impractical piece of clothing to fight in. She closed one eye, the other glowing blue. For some reason, Adrian was deeply unsettled by that.

“Cover me.” She said, the glow growing stronger. She set her sight on Adrian’s chest. He resisted the urge to cover it.

“Anything for you, princess.” Max cooed, another green bubble popping up around the girl.

“Can you two not do this right now?” Greg grumbled, experimentally throwing a couple fire bolts at Adrian. He simply summoned a bubble around himself, the fire slapping it and fizzling out. 

Max snorted, dashing forward and hacking at the bubble. Little more than scratches appeared under his attacks. Max danced back as Adrian sent warning icicles raining down. “You're just mad  _ I  _ got the girl.”

“Let's not do this right now, boys.” Serena chided, brow furrowing. “I'm trying to concentrate.”

There was a small sensation like a ping in Adrian’s soul. He rubbed his chest uncomfortably, eyeing Serena. What was she doing? Well, whatever it was Adrian wouldn't let her do it. He summoned a couple dozen spectral hands, a spell he had created early in his childhood but had recently perfected. Now he could summon dozens of them at a time with as little magic as possible while they still remained semi-autonomous. And he could give them magic types, like these ones that glowed with blue spheres of light in the place of their palms. They lunged at the boys, grabbing onto Max before he could pull magic out of his soul to counter them. He fell, pulled to the ground by blue magic and trapped there by hands that continually renewed the spell without Adrian’s attention. Greg managed to conjure a ring of fire, burning away Adrian’s hands. He flinched as his spell was forcibly was broken off, but didn’t waste any time in simply summoning a gust to blow out the other boy’s flames. Greg stumbled back, his loss of footing making it even easier for Adrian to get a good grip on his soul and pull him down with blue magic.

The boys fought, but Adrian had far surpassed them in the last few years. Not even with Max’s Bravery could they break free from the blue magic weighing them down. He sighed, eyeing Serena who still had a shield around her and a blue eye glowing. It was this easy, wasn’t it? They didn’t stand a chance against him. He could kill the boys right now and be done with it, but a tiny voice spoke up in the back of his mind, a voice that had been beaten and abused more times than he could count. A voice that insisted he spare them, that he not take life. Even if he saved his mother, he couldn’t face her with the soul of an executioner. So Adrian left them to squirm futilely against his magic and considered how he would handle Serena.

He decided on just some spears to pierce the shield, but before he could, the girl shrieked, falling to her knees. She was... crying?

She looked up at Adrian, one hand over her mouth like it might keep the sobs inside. Tears formed at the corner of her eyes and trailed down her face. “You... What... I-I had no idea... Oh God, I’m so sorry...”

Adrian furrowed his brow in bewilderment, but the girl simply curled up. She pressed her palm against the eye that had been glowing blue like it pained her and laid there in a shuddering heap.

“Serena? Serena!” Max shouted frantically, his squirms turning into thrashes. “What the hell did you do to her you freak?! I’ll kill you!”

Adrian felt something  _ break  _ in his soul. He gasped, gripping his chest with a wheeze. Max scrambled to his feet, the orange halo around his body glowing brighter. His eyes were still orange but the pupil had turned a stark red.

Determination. The pain in his soul, the ability to break through his magic. This was the power of Determination. And Adrian was at the wrong end.

He wished he hadn’t panicked at the unforeseen possibility of one of them having the very human, very normal power of Determination. But coming face to face with such a foreign feeling like  _ wanting _ to do something so badly you defied the laws of magic and physics, it startled him. So when Max roared and dashed forward inhumanly fast, Adrian reacted, fueled by fear and panic.

His orange spear shot through Max’s shoulder, the infliction of the wound almost sickenly silent. The weapon had been so sharp there was no resistance, no sound as he simply flew straight through flesh and bone alike. Max screamed, dropping his shield. It dissolved into magic particles as it hit the ground. Still, he set crazed, red and orange eyes on Adrian and plowed forward. He lunged forward, his sword managing to pierce Adrian’s bubble. In his alarm, he let his shield fall and he drew back, soul pulsing wildly. He summoned two more orange spears by instinct, sending them flying again. Max managed to mostly dodge one, only taking a gash on his upper arm, but the other cleaved cleanly through his thigh. That wound finally managed to make him fall, even if it was just to one knee.

Adrian took a deep breath, choking back the anxiety that rose from gazing into those red irises. He had gone too far again, had lost control. A healer, Max needed a heale-

Something hard and cold slammed into him, throwing him to the stone ground. Adrian scrambled to his feet, focusing on Greg as the boy muttered another spell, dispelling the block of ice he had smacked Adrian with and sending tendrils of ice to grip at Adrian’s feet. It took a moment to free himself, but a moment was all Greg needed.

“Serena, you have to help Max! He’s going to die!” He said as he summoned some firebolts to get rid of Adrian’s spectral hands. 

“Max..?” Serena whimpered, pushing herself up. She gasped at the sight of Max, kneeling on the stone ground and bleeding profusely, only an orange sword and Determination keeping him propped upright. “Max!” Serena shot to her feet, scrubbing at her face. She had one eye closed, the other glowing blue again. “You-You!” Adrian stumbled back as he melted away the last bit of ice. “You lost control. I see it now. You’re a menace, a threat, aren’t you, Adrian? Even with training, you can’t properly control all that magic in your soul. It always confused me why you never learned to fly when you always seemed so talented at magic, but it makes sense now. You don’t have the control for it. That’s why the Arch-mage abuses you. He’s trying to break you, to give him a reason to put you down before you lose control and kill everyone around you.” Serena took a step forward, eye blazing. “Even still, I must say, I-I’m really sorry for how we’ve treated you and what I’m about to do. But I won’t let you kill anybody.”

In the time she had been talking, Adrian had been setting up his defenses again and trying to subdue an enraged Greg. But no amount of shields would have protected him from Serena’s onslaught. He turned to her as she shouted some spell in Latin, the preferred language of magic, and come face to face with his mother. Her face was tear streaked, clothes rugged and dirty, limbs bloody and bruised.

She- She signed to him. It had been so long since he saw the first language he had learned; it took Adrian an embarrassingly long time to process what her hands said to him.  **You left me** . They accused him, over and over. 

“No...” Adrian whispered, soul pulsing, chest aching, brain screaming to pull it together, this couldn’t be real. But he couldn't. He let his shields drop again so he could step away from the illusion Serena was conjuring. But the illusion matched each of his steps, walking forward as he stumbled back.

**You left me to die,** His mother signed, her face blank. Eyes once so green and full of life, dull and empty.  **In that little shack at the edge of the woods. The villagers, Adrian. They beat me, Adrian. They hurt me. You left me there, you LET them.** She put special emphasis on the word, the sign much wider and explosive than normally.  **You FAILED me. Just like you failed him.**

Adrian’s breath caught in his throat as she disappeared in a shower of magic particles. At first, he thought the illusion that replaced her was a being made of salt. But at the hearty voice speaking in monster, he realized it wasn’t salt, but dust. His heart felt cold, his feet heavy. He couldn’t bring himself to keep retreating, only stare at the abomination as it towered over him. 

“It’s your fault I died, Adrian.” Edgar growled, his voice strangely sounding just as Adrian remembered it, but also with a deeper, more menacing pitch gliding underneath it. “The Arch-mage killed me because of you.”

“I-” Adrian began, speaking in monster. But what could he say? He had been telling himself these things for years. He already knew these things. He just hadn’t wanted to believe them. “I- I couldn’t have  _ stopped _ it.”

The illusion seized him by the shoulders. The magic wasn’t very firm, having the consistency of slush, but to Adrian’s shocked mind, it felt all too real. Edgar’s body of dust began to fall apart, the white particles floating to the ground. “If you had never existed, none of this would have happened! All of this unhappiness could have been avoided if _ you _ just hadn’t been born! You’re a curse, Adrian! And curses must be lifted.”

It took a moment for the biting sensation in his side to register, but once it did, Adrian screamed, scrambling away. There was a sick slurp as Max’s sword left his side, droplets of blood flying away, appearing black in the low light of the night. Adrian pressed a hand to the wound, barely even feeling the pain as adrenaline surged through his body. Blood was practically pouring from the wound, but it was nothing compared to the damage Max had taken. Adrian thought he must have hit the artery in the boy’s leg.

“Adrian, just let it happen.” Edgar garbled, body and voice deteriorating faster by the second.

“I can’t.” Adrian whimpered, clamping a hand on the wound and ignoring the sadly familiar sensation of his own blood running between his fingers. “I  _ can’t _ . Can’t you understand?” He sidestepped as Max came in for another swing. With his free hand, he summoned a shield to block the firebolts from Greg. He could feel it, an emotion he had long since thought had been beaten out of him welling in his chest again. Fury, rage. “Can’t you understand?! She’s not dead yet.” He summoned a green pillar beneath his feet, pulling him away from the battered Max and allowing him to focus on swiftly incapacitating Greg. He snapped, and lightning obediently struck down, shattering Greg’s bubble and sending him flying. He crashed into the side of the building and didn’t get up. “I  _ have _ to save her. She’s not dead yet! I  _ have  _ to keep fighting for her! I’ve come too far to give up now!” He allowed his pillar to be chopped down by Max, instead summoning a dozen more spectral hands, some with blue, some with purple, and some with a black sphere in the place of their palm. When those one touched Serena, she screamed, their magic pumping pain into her body like the icy pain of touching the shadow beasts. 

“I can’t let all of this suffering be for nothing! And I will get my revenge. I  _ will _ kill the Arch-mage!” Adrian was screaming now, too, hot tears racing down his face though he wasn’t sure when he started crying. As the last of his pillar was cut apart, he flared his soul’s magic, his eyes swirling with the different color magics he was using. He used blue magic to pick Max up and slam him into the side of the manor. He couldn’t stop himself. It was all just  _ too much _ . Couldn’t they understand?

“I can’t die! If I die, then what worth would my life have had?” He slammed Max into the building again. “If I die, she’ll die!” Slam. “Edgar was right! He was  _ right _ ! It’s my fault he died, but if I died who will remember him?” Slam. “If I die, who will get revenge for them? Who will get revenge for  _ me? _ They’re crying, all the souls the Arch-mage has broken, crying for revenge!  _ I can’t die _ !” Slam.

He didn’t know how long he ranted, how many times he slammed the poor boy’s body into the stone wall. But at some point, the rush from the adrenaline subsided and the wound in his side began demanding attention. Adrian collapsed to his knees, head bowed and tears silently falling to land on the dusty path. His soul let go of the magic he was using, silencing Serena’s screams that had become a background to the slams and his words. Her gasps of relief bled into sobs. Adrian barely registered seeing her crawl over to the mangled corpse of Max, wailing as she slumped over him.

“I told you.” She wailed, the words distorted by a tight throat and broken by sobs. “I told you this was a bad idea. Why, why couldn’t you just  _ listen  _ to me..?”

Adrian right where he was, staring as the girl sob over the body of the one she had loved. At some point Greg came to with a groan, stiffing slightly. “Serena? What...” He turned toward the source of her cries, voice dying. “No. No, no, that can’t be. This can’t be real. Max-” He cut off, attempting to stand, but falling. Eventually, he too crawled to the body of his twin. Together, Max and Serena cried over the loss of a loved one.

He didn’t truly know who Max was, who he was to them, but at that moment it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the enthralling, horrible rush of Execution Points seeping into his soul. It didn’t matter that Max had hated Adrian or that the feeling had been mutual. All that mattered is that he had been a living, breathing person, cherished by people who loved him. And now he was dead.

And Adrian had killed him.

That’s how the Arch-mage found them, barely more than a minute after Greg had regained consciousness. He didn’t even pause to take in the situation, but then, Adrian knew he didn’t have to- he had planned this. He had always had this planned. He had manipulated these people into hating his son, knowing one day their hatred would tempt them to attempt murder. This had been Adrian’s final test.

“Well done, Boy.” The Arch-mage said, voice detached and disinterested even in the face of such heartache. It didn’t surprise Adrian, but Serena and Greg turned to him with looks of pure hatred. “But I suppose you’ve outgrown that name now, haven’t you?”

“You bastard!” Greg shouted. He couldn’t stand, but he put up a good effort at looking menacing while kneeling. “You knew we were fighting, didn’t you? Why didn’t you stop him?!”

“Isn’t it obvious?” The Arch-mage drawled, slowly turning toward the single twin. At Greg’s look, the Arch-mage sighed. “Well, I suppose it wouldn’t be to someone like you. You. Are. Not. Important.” The Arch-mage clicked, sweeping a hand to encompass both of them and the body. “None of you are, none of you were. Your parents paid me handsomely for your training, this is true. But I never guaranteed you’d live to see it through. The only one that matters a little bit here is him.” The Arch-mage continued, pointing at Adrian. “Because he will be my successor one day. You were simply a means to an end to complete his training.”

The Arch-mage turned back to Adrian, snapping his fingers. Serena and Greg became trapped in purple magic, mouths open to utter protests but never getting to voice them. “Where was I...? Ah, yes, you have passed the final test of your training. In finally killing an opponent and gaining EXP you have shown you have the ruthlessness befitting a mage with such a powerful soul. You are no longer merely a Boy with strong magic, you are a Gaster. Tomorrow, Gaster, you will head to a camp where the church has already arranged the captivity of several monsters. You will experiment on them and, using the knowledge you glean from their souls, you will empower the human army with magic and enchantments. In your spare time, you will continue to create spells for the army’s use. I will accompany you to act as your supervisor. Go to the sage’s room and get yourself healed. We leave at daybreak.”

The Arch-mage turned back to his still frozen students, explaining how their training is now complete and they will also be sent off tomorrow, though their places will be the front lines. He assured Greg he would provide him and his parents compensation for the death of his brother. He released them from their magic then, saying that a proper burial would be held for the boy after they had left. But he hadn’t been a boy anymore, had he? He had been a man, just as Serena was now a woman and Greg was a man.

“Gaster. I told you to go get that wound healed.” He started as his thoughts were interrupted. Gaster, he was Gaster now, wasn’t he? Adrian had been the son of his mother, blameless, pure, without an Execution Point to his name. But Gaster was the son of his father, a murderer. Adrian had died with Max. There was only Gaster now.

Gaster climbed to his feet and resigned himself to his fate. He would get healed, and in the morning, he would begin his work in better equipping humans to kill. He had saved his mother. He still remembered Edgar. He was still alive. At least, Gaster was alive. If you could call it that.

He had won. So why had he lost everything?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHHH I'M ALIVE I SWEARRRRR  
> Okay, so, yeah, I don't really have an excuse for not posting something for like three months??? I just had some writer's block for a couple weeks, then I was lazy for a week, then I was busy a week, and at some point it seemed like so much time had passed that it would be weird to post a new chapter. But! I am back. Sorry for the delay, really, I truly am. Please forgive.  
> In other news, it's been so long since I've written for this story that I kind of forgot how my expanded magic system works. So if it seems inconsistent, I apologize. I just wanted to get something out. It should be better in the future. I haven't even proofread this chapter, geezzzzz I'm the worsttttt  
> Umm, I have most of the next chapter written already, and I have the chapter after that already written. Those have just been sitting, waiting for this chapter to get written. So hopefully you guys will be getting a double update tomorrow to make up for my absence. If not tomorrow then Monday for sure.  
> Just one last time guys. I'm so sorry ;.;


	25. They Bring Something... Warm

It wasn't that Gaster didn't like the children- he just didn't trust them. He knew that the feelings were absolutely absurd; they were just children, after all. Maybe it was just the way Vari glared at him and tensed when he gave his terse introduction. And while monsters were more good-natured than any human, even a human child in some cases, Reya could still be a threat with her magic. Except for one thing.

“Oh, that,” She said sheepishly, drawing her hands to her chest self consciously when Sans asked why her soul felt weak, “I have a pretty weak soul for a monster. The doctor in camp said something about it not taking in enough magic from the air. I don't really get it, but, uh, yeah.” She ducked her head down, wringing her hands nervously.

Gaster grunted. He knew what she was talking about- it was, in a fashion, what afflicted humans. Humans had too much material already in their soul, with how much they had of different traits and especially their base trait, to absorb much magic. Her soul was probably just abnormally small.

Vari hung behind her protectively while she was talking, eyes trained on Gaster. The doctor wasn't entirely sure what the boy expected to happen, but maybe it was a good thing he hated other humans so much. Sans had already recounted what he had found in the remnants of the camp.

Gaster honestly didn't care much about the children, though. He had a duty to fulfill to Sans, if they wanted to tag along Gaster wouldn't stop them. He just wouldn't go out of his way to help them either.

They skirted the edge of the black ground, none of them willing to enter its charred premises. They walked the rest of the day in relative silence, the children in the back and Sans and Gaster in the front.  A couple of times, Reya and Vari talked quietly, but Gaster didn't listen to what they were saying, even if he could hear them. Sans had been lenient with meals and breaks before, letting Gaster simply skip them so they could walk farther, but now he made him stop every hour or so to let the kids rest for a few minutes. Exasperated though he was, Gaster wasn't particularly upset by it. They were just children, after all, he couldn't expect such single-minded focus from them. Even if he wanted to.

“I'd say it's about lunchtime.” Sans announced. Gaster glanced up to find the sun soaring high overhead, confirming what Sans had said. The skeleton turned to the kids. “What do you guys want to eat?”

Vari glared at Gaster silently. Reya saw this and took a deep breath. “Er, what do you have?”

Sans smiled at them, though Gaster wasn't sure why. And he wasn't expecting the hearty clap on the back Sans gave him, making him stumble forward under the force. “Gaster here can turn the grass around us into any plant you want!”

Reya looked to Gaster for confirmation. He just shrugged.

She hesitated, then asked, “Even grapes?”

Instead of responding, Gaster knelt down and poured magic into the grass next to them. It turned white for a moment as he morphed it and twined it together into a vineyard, plump purple, green, and red grapes growing into existence along its length. Reya gave a tiny squeal of delight, stepping forward and plucking a red grape from its newly formed home. Vari looked at the spell with the same level of distrust he always did.

Reya tried to hand him some grapes. “I'm not eating those.” He said, stepping back. “You shouldn't either. You don't know what he did to them.”

Reya frowned. “I'm sure they're harmless, Vari.” She assured him in that subdued voice of hers.

He persisted, though, turning his nose up at them. Well, it didn't bother the doctor if the child chose to go hungry. Sans had a different idea though, grabbing Gaster’s arm and dragging him over to the food, much to his chagrin. He picked a handful of green grapes and pushed half of them into Gaster’s hand. Gaster stared at them, stomach growling but with no desire to eat.

“Eat them.” Sans growled, nodding towards Vari. He watched keenly.

Gaster sighed and put one into his mouth, chewing methodically. It wasn't awful, but Gaster simply didn't _want_ food. It was a challenge simply to swallow, but somehow he forced himself. Sans smiled and chomped down on his own.

Vari huffed and begrudgingly collected some fruit for his lunch. Reya smiled at him and patted the ground next to her where she was sitting in the grass. Gaster ate a couple more grapes at Sans’ prodding before withdrawing from the others and waiting a short distance away.

He didn’t know how to feel anymore. He didn’t want to live if it meant carrying this emptiness like a hungry beast inside of him. But... Sans had been right. Lytle hadn’t wanted Gaster to blame himself; she had wanted him to live.

How could he not blame himself though? He might as well have been the one to light the fire. He couldn’t save her, so he ended her. Not only her, but all the monsters as well. He didn’t do anything to kill them, but he hadn’t exactly done anything to prevent their deaths. And he had done experiments on them, experiments that he shuddered to even think about, experiments that brought up a dark mass of feeling and memories Gaster preferred stay buried. He wondered what Sans would think if he found out what he had done to the other monsters. If Lytle were still alive, he doubted she would even be able to look at him. He couldn’t even look at himself.

Gaster forced the thoughts out of his mind, focusing on the ground in front of him. He didn’t know what to think, so why bother anymore? It was better to just stare ahead, mind blank as a fresh sheet of paper. He absently fingered the flower in his pocket.

Gaster snapped to attention. Vari had let out a squeal, jumping to his feet and running after a laughing Reya. The doctor furrowed his brow, watching apprehensively as Vari tried to tackle the bunny, but she was too light on her feet and easily evaded him. He landed in a cloud of dust and a rustle of grass. Reya blinked down at the spot in the tall grass Vari had fallen, only to be tapped on the stomach by a little human hand. She huffed as Vari sprinted away, giggling at his trick. She chased after him, but he was too short to be seen easily over the grass.

Tag. They were playing tag.

Gaster wanted to stop them, fearing any who might be close, but couldn’t bring himself to interrupt their fun. He continued to watch them quietly and flared his soul’s presence. He would know well in advance if anyone was coming. The children continued to run around, taking short pauses every now and then to chomp down a handful of grapes.

“Heh, it’s been awhile since I’ve seen something so light-hearted.” Gaster glanced at Sans. The skeleton had walked over to stand beside where Gaster sat. Gaster grunted in agreement. Sans looked up at the sky overhead, where the sun continued to roll through the sky. “We should probably get going soon, but let’s give them a few more minutes. Sound good?”

Gaster shrugged. Vari tripped on something, probably a rock, landing hard. He rubbed his chin and sniffled, but Reya was beside him in an instant, eyes filled with concern. Vari grinned and put on a brave face for her, and their game continued.

* * *

 

They made good time after their break for lunch, now that Vari trusted Gaster a bit more. Instead of walking slowly and carefully behind the main group, he actually pushed them forward, more energy trapped in his bones than Sans and Gaster combined. Gaster wanted to keep going through the night, but Sans reminded him that they had more companions now that had to be cared for. Gaster said he didn't particularly care. Sans sighed.

“Look, Gaster, these kids have been through a lot. Let's just let them rest for the night, okay?”

Gaster arched an eyebrow, glancing back at the children. They were engaged in a conversation of their own, but Gaster still kept his voice hushed anyways. “I only had us moving during the day to make up for lost time. We shouldn't be moving in broad daylight.”

Sans shook his head. “It'll probably be okay. After all, the soldiers have already combed through this area from the sounds of it. Besides, we can fight off some soldiers.”

Gaster grunted, and didn’t press the issue further. Sans told the kids they were stopping to make camp, and Gaster didn’t object. He made another depression in the ground for them to rest, and the children watched him work with a mix of awe and fear. Gaster raised an eyebrow at them.

Vari scrunched up his nose. “Why do you have so much magic?”

Gaster stared at the shallow hole in the ground. “I don’t know.” He said more bitterly than intended. Reya scooted away and Vari scowled.

“What Gaster means is,” Sans swooped in hurriedly to cut the tension rising thick between them, “He just has more magic in his soul than most humans. More than most monsters, actually. He didn’t ask for it, but he has it so he uses it.”

Vari continued to watch Gaster carefully, set on edge by this newfound danger. Gaster turned away to sit by the edge of the hole and keep watch. He didn’t really care whether or not the kid trusted him.

“Um,” Reya began, wringing her paws. Gaster turned, but she was talking to Sans, “Can we make a fire? It gets pretty cold at night.”

Sans glanced at Gaster, giving his best attempt at a grimace past his skull grin. “I don't know, a fire would attract a lot of attention.”

“Oh.” She laid her ears back, and shuffled her feet. “Well, I used to make fires back at the camp after everything happened, and nothing bad happened.”

Sans kept glancing back at Gaster, though the doctor had no clue why. Sans eventually sighed and nodded. “Yeah, we can make a fire. Just a small one though.” He added as Reya’s eyes lit and she scampered off to collect material to burn. Vari slinked behind her.

Sans collapsed next to Gaster with a sigh, scratching the back of his head. Gaster glanced at him, but didn't say anything, going back to watching an ant crawl among the grass. “Those kids are a bit of a handful. But I like them.”

Gaster didn't reply. He didn't see a point in it. What worth did the opinion of a dead man have?

“Don't know if a fire is the best idea though.” Sans continued after an ample pause to see if he would speak. “Might attract unwanted attention. Might even catch the field on fire if we're not careful.”

“I could put it out.” Gaster mumbled absently. He could feel Sans tense beside him, though he wasn't entirely sure why.

“Yeah, yeah, I bet you could. So what's for dinner tonight?” Sans prompted excitedly.

Gaster shrugged. “Probably something with protein to keep our strength up. Maybe something with calcium for you.”

Sans was grinning. Gaster wasn't sure what there was to grin at. “Sounds good. You do that, I'll make sure the kids don't do something stupid.”

Gaster watched the skeleton get up and leave with a confused frown. He shrugged it off and waited for them to return, Vari carrying limp piles of dead grass he had plucked from the ground and Reya hefting a bundle of sticks, though Gaster wasn't sure where she had managed to find any. There weren't many trees out here. The children cleared out a circle and set stones around it just in case, then Reya set down some of the wood and Vari added the kindling. Reya’s brow furrowed and her ears bent back at an angle as she concentrated. The pile smoked at the intensity of her stare before finally catching fire. Gaster traced a rune in the dirt beside him, a different version of the spell he had given Avery on the day Sans had arrived. It wouldn't block of the smoke, but it would create a bubble around the group where the light wouldn't go through. Vari and Reya huddled next to the fire as the chill of night descended. Sans sat with them, even though he didn't need it. Gaster couldn't rightly feel the cold, or the heat for that matter, anymore.

He turned the grass around them into an assortment of nuts and fruits to keep their strength up, and the child happily roasted them above the fire. The air was filled with the sweet and savory scent. It was enough to make Gaster’s stomach noisily remind him that he hadn't eaten much it in several days, and he begrudgingly took part of dinner too.

For all the contentment evident on their faces, it was quiet, the only noise the crunch of food and the crackle of fire. It was peaceful. And Gaster could actually _feel_ part of that.

It was... nice.

Once his belly was full and his eyelids started drifting close, Reya picked up Vari and laid him down gently, not too close to the fire but close enough that it would keep him warm. Sans turned in next, settling down and watching the flames dance until his sockets pulled closed and his breathing evened. It was just Reya and Gaster.

Gaster almost wanted to say something, but he didn't know what he could possibly say that could comfort the girl. Her eyes were distant, reflecting the fire like a mirror of nothingness. The fire had burned her badly, just like Gaster. For some reason, he didn't care how he felt gazing into its hungry red maw, but seeing such a young, innocent monster scarred by its touch, it stirred something inside him.

But how could he help her if he couldn't even help himself? He would never be able to soothe the burn, but maybe... maybe he could make the scar more bearable.

He took a deep breath, stirring his magic. It had been a very long time since he had tried it, but right now it was the only thing he could think of. At least his teacher had been one of the best, much better than the Arch-mage.

It was like he was controlling a puppet, but instead of strings it was magic and instead of a doll it was fire. Shifting, burning fire. Reya jumped back as the flame leapt up, reaching into the air with a tongue that tumbled and clawed into a cat. The fiery kitten rolled to a stop three feet in the air. Reya watched in wide-eyed shock as it stood and padded around, paws alighting on nothing but air. The kitten stopped, watching with an eyeless face and a twitching tail as the embers drifting in the air fluttered into butterflies. The kitten pawed at them in wonder, the insects paying little mind to it and soaring down to circle a startled Reya. She shrunk away from the Fires at first, but eventually she straightened and gave out a tentative smile. The kitten plodded over to her, moving as if walking down an invisible set of stairs. Reya watched it with apprehension, but didn't flinch away as it flopped down next to her, crackling in the best imitation of a purr.

From there, Gaster brought more of the meager flame to life. Deer leapt from its depths, flowers popped up from the ashes and swayed in an unseen wind. Owls and doves soared above, coos replaced with soft pops and feathers painted red. Reya didn't even fully notice as the kitten rolled to its feet, crawled into her lap, and began massaging the inside of her leg with paws made not truly of fire, but of warmth and light incarnate. She was grinning, watching the animals frolic in their quiet procession in silent appreciation. For a moment, even Gaster forgot about the horrors he had seen, how he had been burned. All he saw was beauty and life.

But reality was cold and brutal. The moment the tide came rolling back in, he was swept under it. The fire creatures died, and Reya’s smile disappeared as the creatures wisped away to nothing but ash and embers, leaving her with nothing but the dwindling fire immediately in front of her and the man sitting beyond that. Gaster blinked at the wave of emotions that threatened to drag him back into the depths of self-loathing.

“Was that you, Mr. Gaster?” Reya asked, still watching the fire in awe.

Gaster was pulled back to the moment. “Yes.”

“O-Oh.” Reya stammered at his terse response. “Well, it was wonderful. That- That was monster magic, wasn't it?”

“All magic is the same.” Gaster recited, pulling out an old piece of memorized material and blowing the dust off. “Monster souls are more closely tied to magic, so they don't have to use runes or words to help channel it. The magic I just used, however,” Gaster continued, his hands idly signing along with his words, “was learned from an elemental.”

Reya gasped, eyes shining. “You've met an elemental? Mr. Gaster, that's amazing! What was it like?”

Gaster smiled fondly, filled with a sad sort of nostalgia. “He was terrific. He helped raise me.”

“Really?” Reya was positively ecstatic. “I've never met an elemental. Most of them were wiped out by...” Reya trailed off, shrinking back as she realized what she was talking to. “Er, I mean-”

Gaster shook his head, interrupting her fumbling for words. “It's alright, I already know. Human mages killed most of the elementals. The one I knew was an escapee from that massacre.”

Reya blinked. Gaster gave her a moment to gather her thoughts. “So... was he the one who taught you this fire manipulation magic? Was he a fire elemental?”

Gaster nodded.

She was fiddling with one of her ears, nervously petting the back of it. “Would you teach it to me? My soul isn't the greatest at handling magic, but, I figured if a human could learn it, someone like me could too. Though Sans did say that you have a lot of magic for a human, huh? I think I could still manage though. Ha, ha...” She trailed off awkwardly as she realized she was rambling.

Why did everyone assume that just because Gaster was good at magic he could teach others magic? But looking into such pleading eyes... He motioned her over, a bubble of nervousness rising in his chest. Looking into those eyes so full of hunger for knowledge, it reminded him of his younger self. He was almost transported back in time, back to sitting under a tree with the monster who had helped raise him.

Edgar, the fire elemental.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo, meant to post this yesterday whoops. I hope you guys had a merry Christmas to those who celebrate. To those who didn't, I hope you still had a good day.  
> I'm having a bit of trouble posting this on the other site I have this on, so, yeah, that's unfortunate. I'll have to post it later. So you guys here will actually get it closer to on time, but uh, yep. I'll be posting another chapter too for you guys cause I've been bad about posting lately. Hope you enjoy~


	26. The Times That I Miss

He had met him on on unextraordinary spring day. Mother had sent him out to pick some fresh herbs for a poultice she was making for someone in town. Adrian had headed into the woods behind his house like always, basket in hand. 

Mother had always warned him not to go too deep in the forest, lest he run into monsters. The war hadn’t officially begun yet, but it brewed on the horizon like a dark thunderstorm. All the monsters in his village had been run off a few months before, and it wasn’t unheard of for monsters to attack people travelling alone. The reverse was also true though.

Mrs. Smith had been suffering from headaches again, and needed more butterbur. Adrian picked his way over the edge of the marshlands where the plant grew, or at least where the marsh should have been. Adrian frowned, cautiously looking around him. The forest was just as serene and peaceful as always, nothing else out of place. Yet the marsh was now just a dry indent in the ground. It must have dried up a good while ago since some plants had already taken root. 

Adrian glanced forlornly at his empty basket. If he returned empty-handed, poor Mrs.Smith would have to suffer from her headaches until Mother could come to search for some with an escort. Adrian pressed his mouth into a hard line and set off determinedly deeper into the forest to find an area of the marsh that was still wet. There he would find some butterbur.

The farther Adrian walked into the forest, the more things he noticed out of place. A patch of black grass burned to ash. A charred tree standing ominously against the blue sky. Adrian stopped in front of it and wringed his hands nervously, the buzz of magic in his soul becoming something near frantic. He forced himself to take a deep breath and calmed that swell of nervous magic energy by muttering an incantation, summoning a ring of green shields around him. The weight of the shields threatened to trap him just as well as any purple magic, but another word wrapped his soul in gravity-altering blue magic. Adrian smiled to himself as his soul’s buzzing returned to its regular ignorable level and kept walking.

He barely felt his soul summon in preparation for Battle past the expansion of magic. He gasped, whirling around to try and find the threat. His world became brighter as his soul swelled with terrified magic, his eyes glowing in response. 

“Oh, what have we here?”

Adrian whirled around to where the sound was coming from. From behind the charred remains of the tree, a being of pure fire emerged, leaning against the tree nonchalantly. Its green, fiery body burned brightly. In place of eyes, two glowing points of light were fixed on Adrian. It wore simple brown trousers and a cotton shirt. “A human so far into the forest? A child no less?” The monster’s flames flickered in what Adrian thought was uncertainty. “What are you doing here?” The heavy accent the monster spoke with made it difficult to understand it, but Adrian determined that its tone and words weren’t threatening at least. Though, by the tense way he stood and his flames whipped at the air, that could change.

Adrian ducked his head.  **I’m looking for butterbur.** He signed timidly. The monster tensed even more at the unfamiliar movement of Adrian’s hands. Adrian wringed his hands again, the glow of his eyes becoming even more intense as fear bubbled up in the child. What was he supposed to do? He couldn’t speak any verbal language well enough to convey what he was trying to say. The monster inched farther away from Adrian warily, its own eyes beginning to glow more with magic. Adrian forced himself to calm down. His eyes were not making him any less threatening. The monster hadn’t attacked, so obviously he was still waiting for the human to do something. Hesitantly, Adrian kneeled down.

_ I’m looking for butterbur. _ He wrote in the dirt. He looked up, relieved to see the fire monster’s flames flick in what he thought was recognition. If he thought it odd Adrian couldn’t speak, he did not say anything.  _ It only grows in the wetlands, but they seem to have dried up. _

“Ah.” The monster said. After a moment, Adrian felt its soul pulse warmly. It was sparing him. Adrian spared him in return, and the tension of Battle evaporated. “My apologies, you can never be too cautious with humans. The marsh drying up might be a fault of mine. I may have gotten rid of the water so I could live here safely...” It trailed off as Adrian frowned, furrowing his little brow. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think any humans would come in here looking for something from the swamp. Honest!”

Adrian huffed, crossing his arms and thinking. What was he supposed to do now? Butterbur was the best cure for headaches, and the only one he knew of that grew around here. Then again, he had never been this deep into the woods. And if this monster lived here, he might know a thing or two. After fiddling with the hem of his shirt for a moment, Adrian wrote,  _ Do you know of any willows growing around here? _

“Willow trees?” The monster asked. Adrian nodded slowly. “Yeah, I know of one. Would you like me to take you to it?” Adrian took a deep breath, feeling uncharacteristically brave, and nodded again. “Alright then, stick close.”

The fire monster turned, glancing over his shoulder to make sure the child was following before continuing. They walked in silence for several long moments, the monster leisurely while Adrian nervously. Eventually the monster nudged the human with a fiery elbow. Adrian inhaled sharply, but found that it didn’t hurt or even feel warm. He rubbed his arm curiously. The fire monster chuckled. “You can drop your shields, you know. Nothing in these woods but me, and I’m not going to hurt you.”

Adrian blushed, dropping the spell with a word.

The fire elemental laughed again, but his tone was more serious. “So, you know magical incantations, but can’t speak?”

Adrian fiddled with his hands, not actually signing anything but just a nervously fidgeting. “I-I can suh... speak. N-not well.” Adrian hadn’t learned to speak until he had began to take trips to town with Mother. He had found a spell in his father’s notes that he could use to understand human language, though he hadn’t been able to make it work with monster language for some reason. Still, though he could understand others, that didn’t mean he could speak their language.

“Well that’s quite alright! That thing you were doing with your hands- is that a sort of sign language?” 

Adrian nodded with a small smile, signing,  **Yes.**

The fire monster’s eyes widened at the motion. “That’s very interesting! But, why do you have to sign? You can speak, and obviously, you can hear.”

Adrian began signing his answer before realizing what he he was doing. He blushed, but the monster waited patiently for him to speak. “M-my mothu...ther can’t s-speak. S-she mu...made t-this.” Adrian’s face felt like it was on fire. He didn’t want to butcher any more words, so he clamped his mouth shut and stopped there. He waited for the monster to heckle him.

“Did she now? That must be hard,  I know how humans can be. You know a language that makes perfect sense to you and your family, but everyone else just thinks you’re weird.” Adrian nodded sadly. “And you’re soul, I could feel it. I thought you were a monster at first with how much magic I sensed coming from you. Humans would make you an outcast.”

Adrian turned away, fighting the burning behind his eyes. He brought his hands up to sign, but hesitated. He glanced at the fire elemental who wasn’t even looking at him. He wouldn’t understand his signs anyway.  **Yes.** He signed.  **I have too much magic in my soul for a human. It makes my soul white. It makes my eyes glow. I know more magic than some of the wizards in the army. I know a language that only my mother understands. I love learning about the world and asking questions that no one seems to have the answers to.** His signs became jerkier as they continued.  **I hate going to church. Everyone there just calls me a child of sin and a demon. My mother helps the sick and they never thank her for that, but they'll berate her for using magic when magic is the art of demons. The other kids won't talk to me and the adults feel threatened by me. I just want them to stop. I'm human too. My soul is white and my eyes glow and I use magic a lot, but I'm a human too!**

**“** Wow, easy there kid.” The fire elemental stopped, kneeling down. Adrian instinctively took a step back. The last time an adult other than Mother had kneeled in front of him, he had smacked the boy for being a devil child. “Hey, it's alright. I know. Things have been hard, haven't they?” Adrian turned away, sniffling. The monster reached forward and grasped the child's hands. They were so warm and soft, yet Gaster could feel something solid beneath. “I know, but things will get better. You don't fit in with the humans well, do you?” Adrian shook his head, a tear spilling over and slipping down his cheek. “You know what I think? I think you'd make a better monster anyway.”

Adrian stared at the monster uncertainly. Whenever humans said that to him, they spat it like an insult. But this monster said it gently, like a compliment. If all monsters were like this one, maybe it  _ was _ a compliment. Adrian decidedly lunged forward, wrapping his thin arms around the monster. The fire being let out an “oof” in surprise, but immediately returned the gesture. This felt right, Adrian thought. The fire was warm and encompassing, and wholly pleasant. Like a soft blanket made of heat. Somewhere inside the monster, Adrian could feel the idle hum of his soul. Adrian remembered the first time he went into town, he couldn't control his magical senses.  He had felt the hum and almost heard the magic, no matter how little, in everyone's souls. It had been like a swarm of buzzing bees in his head that only grew bigger and more insistent the more people had gathered around. Adrian didn't know how Mother had figured out what was wrong when her child start screaming and signing for it to stop, but she had brought him close, leaning his ear against her breast. She had told him everything was alright, to just focus on the thrum of her soul and tune everything else out. It had taken several minutes for him to successfully calm down and begin to do as she said, but eventually he listened to the familiar thrum. That hum he was used to, the soothing sound that had replaced his mother’s voice when he was little. 

They stayed like that for a long moment before Adrian had forced himself to draw back. He looked up at the monster sheepishly, then directed his gaze back to the ground. The fire monster chuckled, ruffling the boy’s head of black hair. “By the way, I’m Edgar Greensmoke.” The monster said, standing and giving a grand bow. “At your service.”

Adrian frowned slightly, thinking. Not about whether or not to give the monster his name. But pronunciation. The way the priest addressed him the few times he had talked to the child. “Au-Audreean Gaster.” He grimaced. That didn’t sound right. He scowled, racking his brain for the correct way to say it.

“Adrian?” Mr. Greensmoke suggested. “Adrian Gaster?” Adrian brightened, smiling and nodding. Mr. Greensmoke gave a nod in return, smiling fondly. “It’s nice to meet you, Adrian. Well, then, shall we be off?” The monster motioned him forward.

They walked side by side through the forest. Mr. Greensmoke talked idly about what he knew of the forest in his brief stay here. Where food was, water sources, and the like. Adrian wanted to ask him when he had gotten to the forest and why he came here, but he didn’t have the words to ask. So he just smiled and politely nodded or shook his head accordingly when asked a question. 

Eventually, they reached a clearing in the woods. Sunlight flowed freely, displaying a huge weeping willow tree in the center. Adrian ran up to it, staring awestruck at the grand tree. He ran a hand against its rough bark, marveling the size of the tree’s trunk and limbs. The flowing green leaves were still in the air, like falling droplets of green water suspended in time. Mr. Greensmoke gave another chuckle, looking up at the tree with Adrian.

“It’s something, isn’t it?” Adrian nodded. “Beautiful in its own way.” Mr. Greensmoke fell silent, mulling over some thought.

Adrian admired the tree a moment longer before muttering a spell. It was a spell he had created about a year ago now- the first spell he had ever made from scratch. Two spectral hands appeared and floated forward. Together, they began to strip some of the bark off the tree, depositing it in Adrian’s basket.

Mr. Greensmoke cursed harshly, jumping back. “Adrian, get back!”

Adrian turned, confused. Without his focus to guide them, the hands stopped moving and floated aimlessly by the child’s head. Mr.Greensmoke hissed, lunging forward and dragging the child away from the tree. “That spell- I don’t know where it came from but it looks dangerous! I don’t think we’re alone!”

Adrian blinked up at the fire elemental that protectively brought Adrian to his chest, head swiveling as he looked for the threat. Adrian grunted, pointing at the hands, “M-mine.”

“What?” The monster glanced down at the child tensely. So close to his soul, Gaster could feel it thrumming wildly, magic within stirring into a frenzy. 

Adrian focused on his spell, making them sign along with him. “Mine.” He repeated.

Realization clicked a moment later. “Oh.” The monster slowly let Adrian down. His flames flickered in what Adrian could only assume was embarrassment. “I, um, didn’t realize.” 

“O-okay.” Adrian stammered.  **They’re mine, I made them. Aren’t they so cool?** Awkwardly, Adrian glanced down at the basket, calculating in his head. “Er, enough.” He said finally.

“Hm?” Mr. Greensmoke seemed to have been lost in thought. He brought his attention back to the child before him. “Oh, very well then. I guess we should be heading back.”

Adrian nodded and fell in step beside the monster once more, leaving the clearing behind. Adrian fiddled with his hands, basket tucked in the crook of his elbow. He wanted to say something to break the tension that had arisen between the two, but his vocabulary was limited. The monster, for his part, didn’t seem exactly uncomfortable. More like just deep in his own mind.

“Where did you learn that magic?” He suddenly asked, turning to bring his gaze to the child.

“M-made it.” Adrian replied, fingering the hem of his shirt. “I’m sorry.” That phrase he was quite familiar with. He wasn’t supposed to study magic. He wasn’t supposed to create his own spells. His mother may encourage the path he had chosen, but to everyone else he was a heathen. He could at least apologize for that.

“Don’t be, young one.” Mr. Greensmoke patted the child’s head absently. “It just reminded me of a spell I saw once.”

“What?” Adrian asked, perking up. Anything magic always caught his attention.

“Maybe another time.” The fire elemental said softly. He was silent after that, and Adrian didn’t feel the need to break the quiet.

Soon enough, they reached the spot where Adrian had met the monster. “Can you make it back from here?” Mr. Greensmoke asked, looking more down to earth again. Adrian nodded. “Alright then, I’ll be taking my leave.”

“Wait! Er-” Adrian reached out with his hand, but brought it back slightly, uncertainly. The monster waited patiently while the child formed what he wanted to say. “C-can I c-come back?”

The fire monster’s flames grew ever so slightly brighter. Adrian cringed back, but the monster met him with a jolly pat on the head and a, “Sure thing, kiddo. Anytime.”

“T-tomorrow?” Adrian asked timidly. The monster paused before his flames flickered gently in the impression of a smile. 

“Of course. I don’t have very much else going on, after all.” The monster winked. He brought a fiery finger to the approximate area of his mouth. “Same time as this morning?” He suggested.

Grinning, Adrian nodded.

“Sounds good, my friend. See you tomorrow.” The monster spun on his heel and left, merrily whistling a tune that seemed vaguely familiar. 

Adrian raced home after that, thoughts speeding too fast even for him. But one thing was big and slow enough for him to grasp onto. Friend. He had called Adrian his friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh guys, you have no idea how long I've been waiting to post this chapter! This was like the fifth thing I wrote for this story. It's just been sitting there, waiting... But now it's out and I hope you guys enjoy learning a little more about Adrian. There won't be nearly as many back story chapters now, just a few here and there because there's not as many and more to spread it over.  
> I don't know how long it will be before the next chapter because I'm still debating what direction I want to take this. I wanted to do one thing, but now I'm considering another... I think I'll do what I originally planned, just in another way. So stay tuned and bear with me guys. I will keep trying to write a good story for you to enjoy.  
> (Also, because I wrote this so long ago, I didn't initially write it with Adrian. There may be a few stray Gasters in there, but I'm too lazy to go through and proofread it again! I hope you just ignored those >.<)


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